


A Match to Tinder II: Devises

by anesor



Series: Not Quite a Knave of Kirkwall [6]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 131,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anesor/pseuds/anesor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DA2 sequel, Free of Vengeance's threat, Aldera Hawke and Anders must still deal with the aftermaths of Kirkwall and their multiple responsibilities to mages, to the Wardens, and to family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Out of the Wilderness

**Author's Note:**

> _This work is a sequel to both the game Dragon Age 2, and a previous story A Match to Tinder. That story was about the Champion and Anders' time immediately after the final battle in sunny Kirkwall. Fleeing, their friends and enemies were scattered too. Flight was not always simple, even with a friend or two. The hardest things were first rebuilding their relations after betrayal and violence, and then to find some way to deal with the threats from Vengeance. Vengeance was faced down, so Anders and Justice have struck a new balance. With spring, they must return to the road, to see if the seeds of change have resulted in any progress for mages.  
>  Parts of this are adapted from Legacy, but much has been added as well._  
> The Dragon Age world, game plots, and those characters from there aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dera Hawke and Anders spent a quiet winter in a remote village, but they can not hide there forever. What has happened since events in Kirkwall late last summer, and what will they find that needs done?

### Eastern Frostbacks, leaving Hallowdingle

#### Aldera Hawke:

Throwing my arms hastily away as I lost balance, I tucked them in for a roll as the hill I was descending lurched like a storm tossed ship. I slipped and fell into the lingering snowbank we were crossing. I started to stand again, but I couldn't help cursing as the cold had hidden that I'd wrenched my knee a bit.

Carefully crossing to where I'd slipped, Anders silently squatted to examine the injury before healing it.

I wanted to ask why we couldn't wait another week or two when travel would be safer, but I knew why. Justice had been patient for the months we'd stayed in the small village, but they had gotten more restless as the weather warmed until there was only light snows between melting. They both wanted to know what, if anything, had happened since we'd last gotten any fresh news months ago. But my mage had gotten grim and quiet for the last week as the snow slowed and plants began to be visible through the snow.

Carefully pulling me up to stand again, Anders smiled faintly. “Just be a little more careful, love.”

I put my arms around him into a hug. “Maybe I just want your attention on _me._ ”

His smile warming finally, Anders slid his arms around me for a hard kiss. “It was on you and your rear at the time. I'm almost surprised I wasn't the one to slip.”

Smiling, I decided that he should not have to miss out, and swayed myself into him enough to unbalance us. We landed in the snow together and air puffed out of his lungs when I landed on him.

His eyes flashed for a second, but he pulled my face down for another kiss before reaching lower.

I was just glad he wasn't showing Justice's determination now. We had spoken about violence and negating the point for change and I thought the spirit understood now, but I still wasn't completely convinced. I didn't know how much lingered from Vengeance's whispering.

Cold dripped down my neck, and I thought it might be Paws checking on us, but I saw Anders' grin as one of his hands moved away from the cold spot.

I got back to my feet and tried to knock as much snow out as I cursed his ancestors. Then I asked, “Are you going to help dry it?”

“Mine's wet and cold too, Hawke. We'll be fine.” He was smugly grinning at me.

Big Paws bounded back to us, his claws helping with his footing. Ser Mew peeked out of his basket, looking unhappy as he had less space in the basket now, but he wasn't fond of walking in snow.

Muttering as cold water was dripping down my back and it wasn't worth changing clothing, I moved downhill again.

A few days after we came down out of the village, we'd still had to camp in our tent due to our slow pace and distance between towns. When we reached the first place with an inn, I was glad to get a room. It only took a few more days until we'd left the mountains and full winter behind. Travel was much easier and no one cared about mercenaries who looked worn and experienced. One of the nicer things about being in Ferelden was that a trained mabari wasn't quite as notable here, and some rude people avoided us completely because of him.

_The best part of that Hallowdingle had been that they really didn't care what happened beyond their area. Even the Sister who led services when the weather allowed, had no interest in a couple of recovering mercenaries who were retraining after battle injuries. Those months we worked on our disguise weapons more often than our true ones._

_We'd made one change to our disguise that 'Brana,' no longer carried Celebrant, while 'Heysal' did. Anders and Justice had both vowed that Justice now remembered some skills he'd learned at the Vigil even if I hadn't really seen it against enemies yet. He was sweating like a pig when he demonstrated some back in Hallowdingle, but was it good enough, short of the Arishok or Merideth? I was sure with her arrival, they would use magic._

_At least Celebrant could be wielded by Justice at need. That and Anders was tall enough to carry the blade and look more intimidating than I._

After the months last autumn with first Merrill and then Vael too, our tent was almost spacious now.

I turned towards Anders and asked carefully out of habit, as this kind of question had to be asked for so many years. “Are you sure you don't mind if we visit where Lothering was before we check on Kinloch?”

Anders' face stilled for a moment before he smiled and said wistfully. “I'd like to see it, love. I have to admit I'm curious about such a small village as Lothering being so important in so many tales I've heard around campfires. Many of the Warden's were sad little tales about fools who thought traps would save them from darkspawn, but I prefer hearing more about farmyard pranks about your family. I must have passed through it on one of my escapes, but I really don't remember it.”

I took a second to wonder how life would have been if I'd met him then. If Papa had been alive, he probably would have sent Anders on his way to preserve our secret. I wasn't as sure what would have happened in our last three years in Lothering. Mother usually tried to stop our bickering but made few decisions. I was well aware Bethany could have used another instructor. Still I might have let him go, thinking he'd draw Templars on us. That was terrible to even think about.

“It wasn't much different than most places I remember us living in,” I could say as I moved closer to him for a hug I needed with these memories. “Lothering and Kirkwall were the only places we'd ever settled in for long.

“Did you know, Mother and Bethany waited much too late for Carver and I to return from Ostagar? They should have left before all ships became only refugee ships.”

Anders tapped my nose before saying, “Don't focus on the 'what ifs,' love. Then both you and Carver might have died while fleeing. I doubt your mother and Bethany would have wanted that.”

Still not feeling that satisfied with my decisions, I had to admit, “At least they got to see Carver again before he died.” It still didn't help that much. I missed them all so much. Bethany may be alive, but I'd seen her less than a _week_ over almost ten years now, she'd become almost a phantom to me. It was getting harder to pretend I had any family, the longer I was away from our last home. It wasn't quite fair to expect Anders could make up for all that. I laid my cheek against his chest to feel his steady heartbeat.

“Oh, love,” Anders said, while tightening his embrace and rocking us.

After a few more moments, I felt a nudge at my back, and Anders jerked his arm from around me. “I did not need dog slobber to make my day complete!”

I had to laugh, twisting around to scratch Big Paws' ears. When I looked up at Anders, his eyes were much more cheerful than his voice had been and he smiled.

Finding the old Imperial highway wasn't a problem: travel east to the lake, follow the coastline south as it circles around the lake until you reach Lothering. The weather was still chilly spring, but we didn't hurry. The Highway was its usual mix of decrepit and vital, though the bulk of the rock used to make the road was horrifying. I didn't think any rock here, or much of it at least, could be from the quarries in Kirkwall. That didn't make the sheer weight of it any better. How many slaves, and even how many 'lesser' mages, burnt out their lives to build this road that didn't even bow to the shape of the land?

A thousand years later, and it was still passable for the most part. Bridges were gone from storm or other disaster, but what remained still carried so many people and caravans. As we climbed the landings up to the highway, with chunks fallen and simpler repairs made, I almost wondered what the roads looked like in Tevinter. Not enough to go there, as cruelty still remained long after much of Thedas broke free.

As we circled Lake Calenhad, not many traveled the highway this early in spring. There really weren't any major towns near here, only villages that were small and far apart. Sometimes there were inns along the road, built below the roadbed, relying on the seeming timeless rock of the highway for support and shelter. Some were small and in fine condition, while others much larger and worn by the years. We didn't hurry along the west of the lake, resting if there was a spring storm. Redcliffe was still days away, and sad Lothering well beyond that.

After trudging across the ice on the raised road bed one day and slipping our way through too many near sprains, I was glad to see a fresh signpost for an inn. Carefully making our way down the stairs, I led, on the theory that I could recover better from a fall if I slipped. That was a bit optimistic, and Anders was having trouble keeping up with our injuries. We got down to the _Fettered Kestral_ , that featured an empty eyrie, and took the best and biggest room they had.

The lady owner was so glad to have customers and so talkative, that I felt I had to help with heating the water for our use. I learned that she and her husband were rebuilding an older inn and the work was going slowly as she was expecting. I dusted off my rusty knowledge of what to say, wishing. Wishing for family. I hadn't really planned for it, as I figured Carver or Bethany would find someone because I would be too busy looking out for them... I expected to be the most doting aunt ever. I disappointed my mother as I was her last hope for grandchildren once we'd gotten established in Hightown.

I'd counted it a kind of blessing in Kirkwall that we hadn't, but I had sometimes wished for it despite the risk from Vengeance. This made it difficult after a while to stay sympathetic to Mother's hopes and plans instead of bitter.

Once we had the bathing chamber to ourselves for the afternoon and warm water made toasty by Anders, a soak was wonderful. I felt summer warm for the first time in weeks while Anders examined the soap we'd just bought for bubble-making fun.

Before I finished dressing, I dragged Paws for a bath too. He pouted, and almost slunk back to our room with his fur still damp and a look of betrayal. It wasn't serious because he did that every time, but I promised to get him some stew when Anders and I went down for some dinner.

Anders played with Mew when I started Paws' bath with an absent expression on his face, but he left for the tavern room before we were done.

When I followed him down, I glanced up at the small hole in the hall ceiling just before the last steps to the tavern. It reminded me of all the unfinished and broken places I'd stayed: Gamlen's, Merrill's, Fenris' mansion, and even to the shed I barely remembered when we first arrived in Lothering. I wanted to visit there, to see if Lothering was as dead as the letters said or if Papa's memorial had survived the darkspawn.

_Others could not have thought much of it, a free-standing stone we'd chipped at slowly and carefully over the months before the Blight began, not knowing that we had a deadline. Mother hadn't wanted to come out of her room for many so days after he died, and even her share of farm chores weren't enough for to wear out my anger and grief. Carver was just as much a tit, wanting to be the man of the house at fifteen, even if he actually didn't want to **do** anything useful. We shouted at each other and Bethany hid in our room._

“ _Your sister is the elder, Carver,” Mother said to him finally, her eyes red rimmed and face pale as she left their bedroom. As soon as she'd spoken, she turned back into their room and shut the door firmly._

_My face was probably as red as his now, but Carver muttered venomously, “When will I be big enough to be a man? I'm more than a handspan taller now, and I can't twist myself enough to stay in your shadow like everyone wants.”_

_With that, he strode out the door, and closed the door so quietly that slamming it would have been more peaceful. His impatience and temper were like mine, but I'd had to master mine before he was much past full sentences. I closed my eyes and counted._

_When I stopped, I said to the empty room,”I don't know, brother. I didn't choose this.”_

_Later I tracked him down, while he talked to one of the Templars. I waited to talk to him as soon as the man was called to some duty. Carver was already fuming about being nagged before I could speak._

_Once we were further from the Chantry I said, “Do you want to help make a memorial for Papa? We'd have to try to make it ourselves, maybe a simple carving. We can't put a statue up.”_

_With a weak grimace he said, “I'd like that, I can do something that is important to **someone**.”_

_It took several days, but we found a rock and some tools, and we let Carver choose where on the farm to put it, and he chose in a wild corner. We argued what to carve, but secrecy finally won over a more detailed carving with his name and accomplishments as those were illegal. That and the fact a simple carving was the best we thought we could make with our lack of experience._

_After some practice on smaller rocks, we got started, taking turns to make a relief on the side, that looked like the carving on Papa's favorite staff. Water and ice should not cause our carving to break up until the rock itself shifted in the soil. That week or two we got the most done, but the seasons changed and we worked on it fitfully over the months until the Blight came._

_The darkspawn sightings were getting more common every month, and Carver was wild to join the King's army. He finally enlisted weeks before the army gathered. Mother had been planning for us to leave for the Free Marches, some place neither she nor Papa had spoken much about. She'd already sent a letter and trunks to her brother in the care of some merchant guild, I made sure they weren't easy locks to pick. I noticed she'd packed things like Bethany's doll and Carver's old blankie. I wasn't sure he'd appreciate her saving it to embarrass him._

_Carver wanted to stay in Ferelden and fight the darkspawn. He would have tried to become a Gray Warden if he'd known how. He was old enough to enlist without Mother's permission; she couldn't stop him. I'd had a fight with Mother when she ordered me to go to the army too and keep an eye on him. No one mentioned why or how I was supposed to do much to protect a warrior like Carver, but we both knew it didn't matter. She knew she'd won when she reminded me that she didn't want to lose Carver, her baby, too._

_That duty had been drilled into me for eighteen years now, their lifetimes. It seemed another lifetime away, something I'd give most anything to have back. Then I cursed, Mother glared at me for my language, and I found the recruiter the next day, Testing well enough with bow and daggers, I got an enlistment bonus which I used to get drunk and get my tattoos. Carver was livid when he found out about both, but Mother made him promise to stay near me in the fighting._

_We weren't even close to the front lines at Ostagar, that was for veterans and Wardens, those unlikely to panic. I knew we'd lost when the Teyrn's forces never came when the beacon lit the sky behind our lines. They had to have been blind to miss that, or cowards. The darkspawn kept rolling forward, even minor injury thought a death sentence. We were lucky, the ogres were fighting a knot of probable Wardens well in front, and we only saw them in the distance. Instead of us holding the rear, those companies in front of us were demolished. Now I know we fought mostly tainted creatures and hurlocks, not the more dangerous darkspawn, but then I grabbed Carver and ordered him to flee. He growled and attacked a wounded 'spawn that had almost made it through our part of the line._

_When he finished, I tackled him and slapped him, saying, “We've lost! Half the army fled like cowards. We aren't enough, we aren't Wardens! We have to get back to Mother and Bethany before the 'spawn do!”_

_Something behind me got his attention as he shook me off of him. I rolled and sprang with my daggers, instead of the bow I'd been using, to attack one of the genlocks that reached us. Shouting his agreement, we fled, barely staying much ahead of the horde for the first hours. Looking back, I caught more glimpses of the ogres stomping the already wounded, and maybe even an emissary, but I didn't know that then. It was just sheer horror, and knowing there was no army, no Wardens to stop the tide. They were demolishing the army and we had been betrayed._

_The spawn slowed and didn't bother to chase us all the way to Lothering, but again we didn't know. We fled along the old highway, barely resting, only to find Mother and Bethany were fine. Paws was glad to see me. Soldiers, Templars, and deserters like us reached the village even as more kept going. We packed a few things, and then dropped so many. The hardest to do was to not bring some keepsakes: my favorite quilt, some books, a stuffed bear the twins had once shared but Carver was too big to not object to bringing it. I said no to much more than dried fruit and meat. Water was too heavy to carry more than a little. Clothing, books, all the things we'd gained in Lothering. But it never lasted._

_We all were trying to figure how we could take more... but then I remembered a sight far distant across the battlefield: men in heavy armor flying in upward arcs. Not Mother. Not Bethany.._

_Carver met my eyes, and maybe for the first time as adults we truly agreed with each other. We nearly hauled them out of the house to begin our flight from Lothering just as the darkspawn were arriving._

Years had passed since Carver had died, years of fighting and deaths. Despite seeing his shade in the Gauntlet, I couldn't remember much about that clearing where he died. All I truly remembered was the ogre and the sickening crunch when Carver died... Mother's cry of anguish and the flavor of my bitter failure. Was there a trampled crop, or just a clearing in dirt? My memory insists on remembering it as a barren wasteland where nothing else lived as far as the eye could see. I knew it wasn't that way before the darkspawn even arrived, but that is how I remembered it. I wasn't even sure if I could find that clearing where Carver died now, still I hoped perhaps to find some sign. I hoped to add Carver's name to Papa's memorial too. It was plain rock, and should still be there. Mother had been the only one to have a full funeral, but did that even survive what Anders did? I should add Mother's name too.

Who else would remember them well now?

Even if they'd never met, Anders had Papa's staff, although the decoration had been disguised for months.

When I entered the tavern, I moved over to stand in front of the cheering fire for warmth and to stare into the flames. I wasn't that hungry and Anders was quietly enjoying an ale at the bar.

We'd talked about going to Amaranthine so I could maybe meet Ser Pounce and Anders could look for his phylactery again. Or if we could seek Flemeth in the Wild to the south. I still wanted to know what she meant when she'd been all cryptic about leaping and abysses. She was the dragon, after all. If she wanted change, we'd done enough of that to deserve a few answers. I wasn't sure if finding Flemeth was a good idea, but finding out what she meant was still bothering at me.

For once, we had nothing extremely urgent and I thought Anders could use the extra rest from travel in both armor and sword. I considered offering to help with repairs if the owners wanted help. I had a few tricks for repairs from Gamlen's house and helping Merrill, that I remembered learning from Papa.

_He'd spent so much time with Bethany and Carver... I tried not to resent it but I understood Carver's frustration so much more than I think he ever would admit. Over much of the winter, I wished I could have spoken longer with his shade in the Gauntlet, there he showed the man he would have become, the one I never knew._

_I then felt guilty for wishing he'd survived instead of Bethany._

An icy drip found its way onto my head, and I got more determined to offer help. The taproom was warm, welcoming, and nearly empty. I wondered if many road weary people could find the inn from the small sign on the old highway.

Anders sat at the bar, so he could talk to the owner as he drank. His sword was propped against the wall and he was addressing a refilled mug of ale with no little glee. I had to smile, as he had bemoaned his inability to get drunk for all the time I'd known him, and his spirit had lightened his disapproval.

Deciding to move over to join him, I was about to make a joke when I saw a heavily armed and armored mercenary clap a hand on his shoulder and pull him away from his drink.

_Templar hunters, here?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	2. With Freedom Comes the Duty...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders venture back into an inn along the Tevinter highway, but someone found them. Someone with an ax to grind and good sources had found them, and Anders/Justice never denied that they deserve judgement.

### Chapter 2: With Freedom Comes the Duty...

#### Western Lake Calenhad Highway, _The Fettered Kestrel_ tavern

#### Hawke:

I moved to the Templar's back in a flash, drawing my daggers and stabbing her. I just missed a clean kill, my throat aching from my shout.

“Hawke, don't!” Anders called, casting a spell.

Worried about what was wrong with him, I paused, even as the woman leaped into an evasion, landing still close range. Her weapon was out now, a long sword with much longer reach and... she was fast, moving faster than I expected. The shield was smaller than Aveline's but well worn and blank of sigil.

The barkeep dove for cover. Smart I maybe, the usual reaction when blood flowed. I thought we could take her, even if she was a full Templar hunter who wanted to ambush us. We'd killed so many of those who'd attacked us, what was one more?

 _Maker, I hope this isn't a full Templar_ , I thought as her shield smashed into me.

Anders finished casting even as my head rang and I was seeing funny lights. He moved over towards me and reached for a rag.

I could only blink as he scolded and murmured at me as he examined the bump on my forehead. I could only tell from his tone, the sounds made no sense.

What surprised me was when he clearly said, “Commander, startling her is a very bad idea...”

“I get that now,” the woman said ruefully, trying to reach to where I'd knifed her.

Still not thinking very clearly, I could only blink at the expression of worry on Anders' face.

He wasn't angry, like he usually was when Vengeance saw a Templar.

The outside door opened and a smiling man in the purple Fereldan Templar gear entered. “Are you sure Dagna had the correct information for... Oh, never mind.” Then he noticed the spilled blood and clutched at his sword for a second as he rushed to the mercenary's side.

“Are you seeing right, love?” Anders asked me, waving a hand in front of my face.

Wanting to do something about the murmuring Templar so close to us, I gripped Anders' shoulder to shove him aside. Our odds were worse now with two of them and my head full of sloshing gravy.

Justice hadn't manifested.

_Why not?_

“But...” was all I could manage to say, even as Anders started to check my eyes. His brow was creased and eyes shined. I admired his lashes and decided, yet again, that calling his eyes amber was just too trite. They were much prettier.

“When did you start using a shield, Commander?” Anders asked as he cast another healing spell on me.

“My insistence, after that business with the Architect,” the Templar said as he checked on this warrior instead of attacking Anders. He was speaking politely to Anders even as Anders was healing me with open magic.

I could not make these facts fit together.

But the Architect rang a bell, it sounded more like a dozen bells echoing right now, and something snapped into place again. I shook my head slowly.

“I would appreciate it if you could finish healing her,” the Templar demanded, with a high-class accent, that rang a clearer bell this time.

Anders patted me on the shoulder before moving to do another healing spell on the woman. He didn't object or argue or bristle.

Looking at the Templar more closely, I recognized him now; he'd been in warden armor and with Bethany during the Qunari attacks years ago. That meant, from what Anders had mentioned much later, that this Commander was... _Oh, Maker, this was The Warden, the one who slew the Archdemon._ I wanted the floor to swallow me.

When the bartender poked his head up again... the other warden told him kindly, “Sorry about the mess. Everything is fine I think, this happens to us all the time. This is Grey Warden business.”

The bartender quickly set some a small kettle of stew and some bread out and did a good job of vanishing. Anders and Alistair, I guessed, settled to eat as soon as they smelled the stew, taking heaping helpings of what had been brought out. I snuck a look at the Warden wary of doing anything else; I scooped an extra bowl for Paws.

Wary of the Warden's reaction to what I'd nearly done, I kept watching her without being obvious... I hoped. I saw how expensive her armor was, it looked like dragon hide, even if it wasn't a Warden uniform. So they weren't Templars after Anders' hide, which was a pleasant change over most, but his comments worried me that they had been looking for Anders.

A whistle, and an even burlier mabari came in. Paws had been bred from culls of Bann lines; this one was scary with how much more muscled he was.

“Perhaps we should move this business to a more private place,” Anders suggested, meeting my eyes.

Shrugging, I waved my agreement. I didn't know what to say after attacking the Hero of Ferelden. She was about my age, and I had no idea how she'd gotten training with the longer blades and shield. She was a rogue according to Anders, but she looked like a warrior far more than we were pretending.

Soon we were all in our room. They met Ser Mew and Paws, and my mabari decided that the other one, Mouser, was dominant by the way he rolled over.

Finally we settled in our room with Anders and I on the bed while they had a bench. I'd given some stew to Paws and ate mine without even looking up, hoping to be unnoticed.

Anders asked in a loud whisper after a long silence, “Are they going to talk soon?”

Alistair shrugged and asked, “How quickly do rogues warm up again?”

“Well, there is Isabela...” Anders said with a smirk.

That made both of them react, Alistair flushing and the Warden shaking her head and rubbing her forehead. So they both knew her too. Did everyone know her? I was beginning to feel left out.

I had to protest. “Varric is warm to pretty much everyone, you have to really work hard to get him mad at you.”

Anders flushed now, and I reached out to hold him close, whispering an apology. I hadn't wanted to remind him as I was ambivalent about Varric too. I trusted him and I didn't as much trust him as before.

Coughing after a moment, the Warden started to speak... and I wanted to make a face, I was doing it too.

The Warden Commander finally spoke, “Anders, what the shit did you think you were doing?”

Anders stiffened and pulled back a little from me, I could see in his eyes that Justice was still quiet.

Touching my hand only now, he turned towards them and asked with a faint smile, “Which time? Back in Amaranthine with that ass? Fleeing to Kirkwall? More recently in Kirkwall Chantry? Since then near Orzammar?”

“All of it,” she said with a snarl, “You know I count goodwill and results, and I'm not convinced of your goodwill anymore. Feel free to start with that fuck up where you slaughtered a bunch of idiots outside Amaranthine. That was an excellent imitation of being demon possessed. A performance worthy of all the Chanty's idiotic claims.”

Anders' hand twitched and I felt the shift, even as Justice said, “ _ **Commander...**_ ”

The Commander’s face softened into sadness, “Ah, my friend, I had hoped it was some other spirit, as those acts in Kirkwall did not ring of justice at all. Anders would not really deserve the retribution for your acts.”

“ _ **They were**_ _ **our**_ _ **decisions once we joined, Commander. We are responsible,**_ ” Justice admitted. “ _ **Spirits do not make pawns of their hosts as demons do, and Vengeance is gone. We rarely disagreed for long.**_ ”

Crossing his arms, Alistair angrily demanded, “Then what about your brother Wardens? Do you even know how many you slaughtered? I hadn't believed it was you staying in Kirkwall until I saw you during that Qunari attack...”

“Do you want your amulet back?” I interrupted, hoping to calm things a little before anyone got too angry.

He paused and looked surprised, and the Commander nodded and mouthed 'please.' So I dug it out from my pack and gave it carefully back to him. Taking a deeper breath he looked at it, then popped it open to see the miniature still inside. Looking at me with puzzlement, he was speechless.

I shrugged and said, “It was important from what you didn't say, and I saw the repairs. I meant to give it to Bethany to return later, but I forgot, with everything else that happened.”

“ _ **Hawke,**_ ” Justice said firmly, “ _ **We must answer for what we've done if there are any who would judge fairly. For that charge in the Arling, it was betrayal and ambush, without any comradeship, justice, or mercy on their part. It was far more Templar injustice than Warden pragmatism. There was no justice in killing us as we'd done no crime nor threatened harm before they tried to murder the mage. This only reinforced that the mage cause was just to me.**_ ”

“We won't argue the mage cause, Justice,” the Warden Commander said angrily. “I've been convinced of that ever since I got a good look at the Ferelden tower. But part of the reason I was transferred out of Ferelden was that I interfered in politics too much for the First Warden's comfort. The crap at the Vigil delayed my recruiting among the casteless dwarves, in the Alienage and the Circle. If only...” She paused and looked at Alistair with a question and he nodded in response. “Justice, if only you'd waited and spoken to me that you'd planned this. I would have been willing to cover for you for a while. I already knew of another mage who'd been hosting a spirit of faith for some time by then.”

Turning sharply in her direction, Anders nearly shouted, “What? Another mage? Who? When?” He'd _never_ found another like himself in his research in Kirkwall, despite all we'd done discreetly.

Smiling, she said, “She managed the clever trick of reviving herself in battle. Other than some long philosophical conversations and warnings she didn't expect to live after the Archdemon was defeated she seemed fine to me. Even months later in Amaranthine.”

Thinking, Anders asked in wonder, “Wynne? She taught in the classes about resisting temptation.”

“I haven't heard that she died, so I have to assume she's still alive,” the Commander smirked. “I have enough contacts around Thedas for that news.”

“Yeah, she's lost out on embarrassing me for so many _years_ now,” Alistair grumbled enough to be funny.

“Maker, I wish I'd known about this years ago,” Anders grumbled in turn. “Just knowing someone else was still sane would have helped me, helped us. I was so close to looking for her in Cumberland.”

“I wouldn't reveal her secrets without good reason, anymore than I would have for you as a warden reporting to me,” the Commander said with some exasperation.

At least I remembered her name was Cousland now. She'd have fit right in, in Hightown.

“But you weren't in Kirkwall, Attryne,” Anders reminded her. “The Veil there is in far worse shape than Blackmarsh had been. Demons could cross without tempting a mage in their dreams. Almost every mage sank to blood magic over the years, something worse than that Baroness by far. It would have been worse if we hadn't acted as we did.”

“Oh, in what way compared to such destruction? You two have done a lot of damage, beyond my ability to fix, no matter how just it was,” Attryne said with an annoyance very familiar to me.

I felt the tingle as Justice manifested again to say, “ _ **You were there when it started, Commander. The Baroness cast some magic that prevented my return to the Fade. Without some kind of host, I would have become a kind of rage spirit or dangerous abomination, and we got too close to that as it was, from a demon's whispering. When we joined, Anders couldn't walk the Fade in dreams either, the same way I was blocked. He was a spirit healer when we joined but he no longer could hear any others or reach the Fade. The only time we felt the Fade was under Dalish spells, through all the years since.**_ ”

“So you need Anders' connection to the Fade to stay sane?” Alistair asked thoughtfully.

“ _ **I am the stuff of the Fade. I cannot heal properly or rest without a living host with at least some link. That is probably why... abominations are so crazed, they seize on a mage's link to the Fade and are drunk with power.**_ ” Justice sighed like Anders, rare for the times he spoke openly. After a brief pause, he admitted, “ _ **We do not know why we are as stable as we have been. We had supposed that Anders' Joining was a factor, but this news about another spirit healer who was not a Warden makes this less likely.**_ ”

“What happens when a spirit is defeated here, but can't return to the Fade?” I asked Alistair, remembering our realization. While I'd often been angry at Justice, he was a part of the Anders I loved.

“I would have thought it would be truly destroyed, like any mortal's body,” Alistair said with a frown. “But I do not know, as that raises the nastier question as to what happens to a mortal soul if they are blocked from the Fade, how can they go on? That makes 'Tranquility' far, far worse than they claim. Simple death is more merciful. Something here is not right for one of the Maker's first children, either.”

Still sounding annoyed, the Warden asked impatiently, “Did you speak to Jean-Maurice about this, Justice? No, never mind, I doubt he would have cared about a spirit Warden. He grew up under the Divine's direct oversight and they probably still itch to take back Ferelden. He's damn good at pissing off the people he's supposed to protect.” Sitting back on the bench, she mused, “I wish we had more senior wardens from Ferelden, the bastard alienated too many like you, Anders, or simply lost people from his command like Sigrun. I cannot like this as we still haven't surpassed the roster under Duncan's leadership.”

“Maybe it's time to use Anora's authority, my lady,” Alistair said angrily. “The wardens in Ferelden have lost too much trust from his actions, but we are senior of Fereldans recruited. And your place as senior anywhere cannot be gainsaid, _**now.**_ Our assignments have often been make work. The Divine and Qunari are restive too, and the Maker only knows what the Tevinters are doing in response to this chaos.”

“We don't have much authority beyond Ferelden. I don't really want to cause a schism within the Grey Wardens either. Being an Arlessa won't mean much when we usually give up titles unless it benefits the Wardens,” Attryne said with a small smile which faded away after a second into almost anger, “I need results and straight behavior until there is a new First Warden... which brings us back to you, Anders.”

Anders shrank down. Justice must be in agreement as well. It was hard to reconcile the Warden-Commander who slaughtered Templars to help Anders, with this glaring woman.

Putting an arm around Anders, I coughed and announced, “I'm sorry I tried to kill you, ser. I thought you were Templar hunters.” I wondered if groveling could help in the face of anger from someone Anders'd always described fondly.

“ _We're much worse, Champion_ ,” the Warden-Commander admitted with a growl. “We'll break any law, any tradition, or any heart to defeat the blight or make sure we are better prepared for the next one. But this war or wars that are surely coming now cannot help but make our vigilance impossible as long as they rage. We cannot remain completely neutral, as much as the First Warden would like it. Some existing forces already work against our fighting darkspawn, and we waste effort with them.”

Alistair said solemnly, “In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. You seem to have forgotten that, mage.”

His arm around me almost convulsing, Anders and Justice cried, _**“No!**_ That Chantry peace for the mages is only death, coming fast or slow. How would your battles against the Archdemon or the Mother have gone if you had not mages, mages free and powerful enough to help you? _**What has been done to them is not justice.**_ ”

“Shut up, Justice!” she shouted with her blade suddenly at his throat and the other ready, while Alistair stood up over us.

They were to close and too experienced for me to even hope to stop them in time. Neither Anders nor Justice seemed to want to fight.

The Warden was looming only a handspan away from their face. “We'd known where you were for how many years now? You shouldn't have been cornered like that by Roland, I made sure third parties within the Wardens saw the evidence of their plans. Your slate isn't clean from that, but it has softened among the Wardens. Especially when we could show proof you'd been doing a warden's work in Deep Roads and helping the Champion, even if you went rogue. You know warden policy is whatever it takes for us to fight the darkspawn better, and a single apostate who may have done something stupid isn't even a distant second on the priority list. They screwed up, the only decision for me is to decide if you or they screwed up more, if you are too dangerous to let live.”

Anders squeezed my hand tightly, even as Justice manifested fully and said calmly, “ _ **A judgment then.**_ ”

“You're forever a Grey Warden, whether you like it or not,” Alistair growled. “It would be better if the Champion wasn't here while we speak to you about your actions.”

“She stays,” Anders insisted to my relief. “She's already had to deal with warden crap enough, and Seneschal Varel and Mistress Woolsey weren't wardens either, and they knew more than we did at the Vigil.”

“Not that much anymore,” the Commander said, lowering her blade a little, though she still looked angry. “You know how much necessity rules Warden actions, Anders... Justice. Alistair?”

He nodded and brought out an old goblet. Anders began shaking in anger and glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The chapter title is adapted from a quote by PJ O'Rourke. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	3. ... The Duty to Accept Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warden gives her marching orders, and Anders is given no choice.

**Lake Calenhad, a room at _The Fettered Kestrel_**

**Anders:**

Not that blasted cup. This one even looked just like the one Varel used, though it had still been at the Vigil when the Warden-Commander left. While it looked more battered than the one I remembered, I wasn't sure if I was imagining stains in the metal. Then I realized the only reason they'd need one.

I gritted my teeth and objected, “No! Don't conscript her! I'm begging you. Please, Attryne. I want one good thing in my life that I didn't screw up.”

Alistair looked offended. “Joining the Wardens isn't an honor?”

“There is no blight now, she has no taint, and Maker help me, she deserves the lifetime _we_ won't get,” I insisted over the pit in my stomach.

“She let you live. The accounts of that day are pretty clear that there were enough demands for you be cut down. She approved of what you did. Her life is just as forfeit if Templars catch you now,” Attryne countered.

“Wardens have a duty, and _you_ have a duty to the Wardens,” Alistair said grimly, “a duty that **cannot** be forsworn.”

Maker, those words were etched on my soul from my Joining, even before reenforced by Kristoff's memories. I knew that running was useless at the end, I couldn't run from my own blood, but I wanted to deny that dark and crushing destiny as long as possible.

I had no choice, but Hawke should.

If a Blight began next month, I could not flee it, not when Dera would die if an Archdemon rose. Mages in Circles or inexperienced at freedom would be helpless like most of Kinloch hold had been if a blight horde rolled over them. They would need us, and freedom is less imperative within the barren waste of the Anderfels after two blights. I'd heard from too many, how places here in Ferelden were still barren after a 'little' blight that lasted only a year. I didn't want to think now of how many must have died during what some idiots called 'true' blights.

But none who'd been a Grey Warden during the fifth Blight denied it was an Archdemon.

Templars could leave, marry or become drunken sots. But if a Grey Warden was on his deathbed and a darkspawn appeared, he would try to kill it _. I'd seen so much of that in the bodies at the Vigil before my Joining, in those Wardens with horrifying injuries; the bloody trail and weapons broken and discarded lay there before I saw their corpses next to one or more darkspawn. It was a disturbing display, after we'd finished clearing the darkspawn. Oghren and Attryne showed little reaction, they'd fought the Archdemon and its massed forces. Mhairi tried to appear as jaded even if she had fought in Denerim too._

_I knew what injuries killed all too well even then. I wondered if Wardens became some kind of inhuman killing machine, like some legendary dwarven golem? But no, I learned Wardens were very human, bleeding and grieving and sparing nothing to defeat the darkspawn. Most became very dead._

_Once I survived my Joining, I'd seen my first new Warden death. Then I felt not just fear and anger at the darkspawn that I'd feel for any monster, but I felt it in my marrow how they somehow reached out, hating life. Even demons needed life to escape the Fade usually. Darkspawn didn't even have emotions beyond hunger and destruction of the living, human or animal. They made nothing but mockeries in Ka'Hirol or anywhere they had sway; it was so very clear even before my Taint had settled in._

_I didn't know how other Wardens felt, we never really spoke about it. But fighting darkspawn was like fighting a disease: there was no other option, and if you could save one more with how you died, you had to fight._

_It didn't even take a Blight, as I'd learned on Bartrand's expedition. As soon as I sensed them, anything I'd ever cared about was at risk, more than just my own life. Mages... Karl... Hawke. I had to protect them from that dark Void._

_I'd tried not to even think about broodmothers, beyond praying to the Maker to never see one again. They were the opposite of life._

Gravely, Attryne asked me, “How many times now have you pushed your luck, that she hasn't been tainted already? How many times have she fought darkspawn over the years?”

Ducking under Attryne's sword, I turned to embrace Dera. It had been one of my recurring nightmares since Vengeance had been healed, especially with the short list of our possible hiding places. My heart sinking, I whispered, “Do you want to be a Warden, love? It might be safer, but... I have enough nightmares for both of us. I don't want you trapped.” Unsaid in my question was my offer... no, _our_ offer I felt, that we would do our best to get her free if we had to.

Whispering back right into my ear, she said so quietly I could barely hear, “I was actually hoping we might have a baby.”

“What? You would?” I leaned back, forgetting to stay in a whisper.

“I couldn't say anything while Vengeance was present,” Dera whispered. “But isn't a new life both defiance and hope for the future of mages in one small, smelly package?”

_Maker, yes._ A family. The freedom to have a family like Dera and Bethany had known. Something none in the Circle had, only lust was possible in there, not making a future. Something I'd never really thought of, but maybe I would free her to seek if I was stronger. Part of me started trying to figure out what might help serve my bubbling joy under the fear.

Out loud I said to Attryne, “No, Commander. Please. Try me, don't conscript her. She knew nothing about what I was planning.”

“We don't always get a choice, Anders,” the Warden-Commander said with some regret and grief in her voice. “I hereby conscript Hawke, known as the Champion of Kirkwall into the Grey Wardens.”

Alistair started to say something, but didn't.

Having that hope ripped away so quickly, I could only hold onto Hawke and howl. “No! Don't do this!”

I didn't care whatever plan they thought they had, and asked for the spirit's help one last time. My throat choked as I couldn't even speak through my fear and anger. I could protect her from my nightmares and the Deep Roads, I wanted her to not have to die in the dark, but fly free in the clean air...

My magic swelled and I could feel Justice manifesting as well. Then it was snuffed out, and even Justice's objection was muted as my head rocked from a slap from behind.

“You two settle down!” Attryne shouted. “And **yes,** many are lucky enough to have wanted and competed to become Wardens. I don't think they survive the taint as well or even combat. I've seen too many starry-eyed like Mhairi over the years who don't survive their Joining. They can't always handle the grim reality of life as a Warden and fight the taint. Those who are already survivors, fight the taint better. Look at the ones who Joined at the Vigil, Anders. Half died who wanted it. The rest of you who had no real choice, all made it. Including you.”

A hand gripped my shoulder and Alistair added, “It does afford the Champion some protection as well, as it wipes her slate clean, by treaties. None of the tales have her causing the explosion. Even Orlesian Wardens should assist her, as she acted to stabilize the situation by removing the lyrium-addled and the blood magic-addled; she used the resources available to her, including you. She didn't take rulership or act as kingmaker, something the First Warden frowns on.” Alistair finished with the ghost of a smile.

I held Hawke so tightly, and my ribs ached from her hold as well. “I want to give her something real, something longer than I have left. Something _good_.”

The Commander’s voice rang behind me. “How many times has she already faced darkspawn like her sister? Even while trying to avoid darkspawn, we cannot. They know where we are and we are drawn to them. How many times can she avoid the taint? She will be better able to fight. Do you really think she will let you go to your Calling alone if she gave you mercy that day?”

Hawke froze.

“Love? You didn't, you wouldn't...” _Not into the darkness with me..._

Smiling faintly, Dera met my eyes. “Always, until the day we die. It was only a pipe dream.”

Touching her face where a tear had spilled over, the others didn't matter right now. “But it was your dream, love. And I have spent little enough time making those come true.”

“You're still with me, _still alive and still sane_. That's the most important dream,” Dera said with her eyes locked with mine fiercely.

I pulled her into another tight embrace, partly as I didn't know what to say. Mostly with shame, as she still didn't believe in my offer, in me, as easily as she once did.

“Now see, Alistair. Joinings are much better if they have a good clinch beforehand,” Attryne said with a smirk I could hear.

“I only met you that day. What kind of Warden did you think I was?” Alistair spoke in a snotty rich man's voice. “I really didn't know the other two either, that I wanted to give them any ideas about swooping.”

“Maybe they won't panic this way?” the Commander asked, her face grim.

Sighing now, Alistair replied as Hawke and I pulled apart. “It still must be only Wardens at the Joining, better his wife thought he died heroically at Ostagar...”

“Let's get this over with,” Hawke interrupted them with a catch in her voice.

Attryne admitted, “We'll leave in the morning. I may have this cup, but I don't carry all the ritual components with me. Only a few bases have what we need, and I would prefer having you on the First Warden's official roll as soon as possible.”

_Oh, no. Official roll. Is she insane?_ I asked myself, still off-balance. “The only base I know of near here is the one outside Orzammar. Sigrun was there.”

“Yes, the last ingredient is kept there in addition to the handy darkspawn. It was scattered to major posts throughout Thedas, as we hoped we chose stable locations to last until the next Blight. The only other stockpiles relatively close are Orlais, Kirkwall, and Vigil's Keep,” Alistair explained. “The first two are risky for Anders.”

“Maybe not, with his change in appearance,” Attryne grinned, “but Orzammar will be fine. Bhelen's a strong Warden ally now.”

After they left our room, I felt less small without their presence somehow.

I pulled Hawke close, hoping against hope. “Love, we _can_ leave now. We can flee and be far beyond their reach; we can find a quiet place for the rest of our days.” Caressing her stomach, I added, “We can find some way to have a family, start our own little circle with rogues and mages and kittens.”

It was such a golden vision that I'd never considered throughout those years in Kirkwall, when I'd been caught up in what I believed to be my duties. But those duties now passed, perhaps for good if we ran far enough.

Apostates could have a family, I was holding the proof and I wanted that in a way I'd wanted few things. Not just for mages, but for Hawke with only ashes of the family she'd had.

Hawke chuckled, “”You'll need to recruit some more cats for that.”

“That will be easy, but not as much fun as this,” I said as I kissed her. I wished I could ensure it, that I could find some lore or magic to ensure a healthy child.

“Anders...” Dera said hesitantly. “How many want you dead? Want me dead too? I can't fault their logic. It somehow benefits her plans, obviously. As Wardens, we gain allies. Some others may think we're under their controls. I only wonder _what_ Cousland intends.”

Sighing, I admitted, “I really don't know, love. I haven't seen her, seen them, for ten years. You are already skilled at killing darkspawn, I think just about every kind but broodmothers over the years. Wardens collect competence. Being Champion and Warden will be useful to Wardens as a reminder that they can take anyone, even if you didn't go into the Deep Roads for them.” I shoved away the memories of the Mother and Architect. Conscripting the Champion of Kirkwall would be so very influential far beyond Kirkwall itself.

Afraid to ask, I did anyway. “You're willing, aren't you? Why, love?

Her voice softened as her eyes filled. “Silly mage. You know.”

I knew, she was still fulfilling her early pledge, to keep us, keep me, safe. My own errors cleansed by her Joining. Maker, I didn't think I could feel any worse than that Moment in Lowtown, so I tried to surround her body to shield her from my foolishness, my heart hurting.

Still, I would not wear their damned uniform.

_\- x -_

In the morning, Attryne seemed a bit surprised to see me. I might have felt more annoyed if I hadn't been hoping to run. Justice showed his disapproval at the idea of running this time, even if he'd stayed blessedly silent last night. I really didn't want to think about which if us had changed that he wasn't nagging me as at Amaranthine. Confidence that Hawke wouldn't run, approval if we had run, or belief that I'd fail in escape yet again. I knew he approved of the Grey Wardens.

_**They have a duty, rarely have I heard of any truly shirking it. Darkspawn are a threat, even if not as widespread now. The mages were in greater need of justice, but the padlock has been broken in the cells, if they step out now.** _

_You, using lock analogies? Dera has been a bad influence on you._ I had to grin at that, even if I could almost feel him frown with annoyance.

_**Mage freedom is very much a matter of cages and cells. We are not thieves!** _

I had to chuckle at him. _Don't deny it. You've approved of many thieves over the years, Sigrun, Attryne, Varric, and even Hawke._

_**They serve just causes... not just themselves.** _

_Yes, I noticed._

Hawke went to the bar to get food for us, while the Commander went outside.

Alistair looked at me and he was wearing Warden armor now, so much for being discreet. “How soon can you be ready to ride for Orzammar?”

He always had put me on edge when he'd visited the Vigil, just from knowing he'd been trained as a Templar. Sampson hadn't really rejected their policies, only the way lyrium had been denied keep him obedient; he rejoined quickly enough. I really did not want to think about some of Justice's memories of Alistair's training with him. Attryne had long insisted Alistair hadn't wanted to be a Templar and got out before any vows. She'd wanted me to see that the Wardens had freed him from the Templars like me. He seemed too nice for a Templar, but I never forgot that no Templars came looking to capture him because he left.

So I answered sourly, “Until we have horses or a dragon to ride.”

Alistair blanched a little. “No, no. We can do without riding a dragon. All that swooping down low over the swamp muck when held in her claws. Swooping very bad. Just like losing your breakfast.” A breath later he added, “Horses are much better, we'll have to find a calm one for you then, Warden Anders.”

I'd been enjoying his reaction until he used my name, so with a glare I reminded him, “Things are much more peaceful if my name isn't used.”

“You, mage, are being brought back into the fold, as it were.” He spoke with a slight smile and a glint in his eyes. “The Commander still hasn't decided what to do with you. If only you wore the uniform, you could almost become anonymous again.”

_He really doesn't hate me for what I did, does he? Why?_

Maybe I said it out loud, as he answered. “I have seen more than enough abuses by Templars in my travels. If the cause was that holy they wouldn't need to use lyrium to keep them pliable. Kirkwall was one of the worst, and Wardens reported on that corrupted lyrium at the Gallows. Hawke was the only chance at a compromise, a solution where neither side won but the mages had some relief, and that was blocked. The Grand Cleric promoted Merideth and that's her responsibility to the Maker for her entire flock. Only the Maker knows what she was trying to prove, but if the Qun attack wasn't enough to prove the Templars there couldn't handle a real emergency, nothing would.”

While I was thinking about that, Hawke brought some kind of porridge-like paste, that tasted much better than it looked.

Commander Attryne came in, not looking pleased, “Closest place to get any horses not suited for the plow is Redcliffe.”

Alistair looked unusually glum at that, and Attryne closed to take his arm.

We set off for the former village which had expanded since the Blight. Alistair alternated between telling wild stories of a flying dog pack when he was young and remaining silent. After he fell into silence, Hawke asked for an introduction to the kennel master when we arrived there.

That became an engrossing topic for all of _them._ The topic of mabari breeding, training, and health occupied them on and off for the days it took us to reach the the seat of the Arling.

I made the almost obligatory comment about the doggy smell, but got glared at by everyone except Ser Mew.

It was almost restful to travel with them, since we didn't have to be quite as careful. Even if they weren't recognized every time by people we met, even belligerent travelers didn't challenge the two of them, and I wasn't quite sure why. They weren't scarred and oozing menace, none of us were.

Redcliffe didn't look like it had seen a demon wave like I'd been told. The former Templar led us to a much larger livery than I would have expected from a town this small. He spoke seriously with the owner as we pretended to be interested, though that might have been just me.

By the time they'd examined, made friendly-with, argued about, and paid for two horses, an older uniformed guard arrived and stood nearby waiting for us to finish. Alistair turned to face him, slowly. I'd seen him fighting in Kirkwall, and he wasn't slow.

Sounding upper class again, Alistair raised a brow and said, “Yes?”

“His lordship has requested that you might favor him with a visit, Master Theirin, he...”

Alistair interrupted him after looking at the Commander. “Will he finally give his blessing...”

The soldier looked down with embarrassment. “No, the invitation was _only_ for you.”

“I... see,” Alistair admitted, looking off into the sky. Smiling wanly, he cupped Attryne's face briefly and said to the messenger, “I won't ask again. Here, give him this.” He pulled the amulet that Hawke had returned to him a few nights ago and gave it to the soldier.

When I looked at Hawke, I could see she didn't know what this was about. Attryne did, but she didn't say anything either. The soldier looked puzzled, but took it and left.

Stepping outside leading the new horses, Alistair was too quiet for him when Attryne spoke to him. “Sorry, love. I didn't think he'd be this angry for so long.”

“I've spent more years with a certain Warden-Commander, than I lived here,” Alistair said with some peevishness. His face shifted to a sad humor. “Though I must admit the zombie and demon era was not my favorite. They scared away the pack of flying dogs.”

“They were very good parents,” Attryne smiled. “Though they didn't help you enough with public speaking.”

Their tone rang of long grief and neither Hawke nor I decided to comment.

We weren't that comfortable with riding horses, Kirkwall had been too much of steep and narrow rock. Later, horses drew attention, they were for the rich or in service.

I felt a pang when I realized that was to be true for Hawke and I very soon now. So for a time, at least, I would have to learn how to ride a horse with more skill. It would not last long, horses usually didn't live long when facing darkspawn, they could not travel the Deep Roads.

We visited the kennel of a mabari breeder and Hawke was wistful after she greeted the puppies. Next was the Deep Roads, though, so I had no idea when we'd be able to return.

“We can come back after we're done with this crap,” I whispered into her ear as the other Wardens spoke with the breeder.

With a sigh and suspiciously wet eyes, Hawke admitted, “I'm beginning to doubt we will ever have enough quiet for that.”

The Commander called us over, saying, “There is a herbal thing that protects mabari, I've been afraid to ask what it is, but he will pass the recipe on, and maybe some khaddis if you want, Champion.”

Taking my hand, Hawke pulled me along with her. The older man, who looked like he should be grizzled but spoke in a light voice, told me that it contained the tiniest sample of darkspawn blood. It didn't always 'take' but they didn't die from the taint.

I wondered if Attryne had ever asked the details, but then she'd never learned much about herbs. I pulled out a journal and recorded the recipe. I would have to study it.

The trip to Orzammar was almost too quiet. The weather was warming, and we only had one altercation while we were in camp. Bandits. Very stupid bandits. Very dead bandits to attack Wardens.

We had no excuse to scatter and leave the other Wardens and _I could not convince Hawke to run..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is adapted from the continuation of the quote by P. J. O'Rourke. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated as I do a little Snoopy dance when I get review.


	4. Demanding Atonement for Victims

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warden, the Hero of Ferelden, has caught up with Anders and Hawke. And conscripted Hawke. Anders wants them to flee but Hawke is refusing to fly.

**Tevinter Highway, nearing Orzammar**

**Anders:**

The old Tevinter highway was slowly falling apart from mountain weather before it quite reached the dwarven thaig, so we traveled the less monumental road through the pass again. This was the path we took in the autumn while leaving. So it was familiar to us.

Only a few miles away from the thaig entrance, some scouts in Warden uniform met us. Led by a respectful Ednund, they offered their escort back to the outpost.

Inside the familiar Warden hall, Sigrun was a little surprised to see all of us, nearly tackling Attryne with a hug and then punching Alistair's shoulder before she hugged Hawke and I as well.

As they all chattered, I was quiet. I had not really had anything to say for the last day.

Our lack of more than smiles in return to her greetings cued her in to something, and she looked at us all searchingly. “Got a mission, Commander? I'm your dead woman.”

“Just a quick one to find some darkspawn, Sigrun,” the Commander admitted. She looked at Hawke and I searchingly. “We can catch up afterward.”

My face felt like a mask, from trying to hide my unhappiness from Hawke. _I hoped._ I'd always been close enough to touch Hawke since she'd decided that we weren't running. As much as I didn't want to see her die and I still hoped she'd flee, I'd stay with her. I'd _never_ really thought she might die before me. I thought as long as I lived I could keep her from going into the Fade one more time. I'd expected my fighting for mages would kill me first.

But I wanted to be with her through this, I needed to. If I had to close her eyes after that cup, that would be the start of my Calling. She'd kept me human through Vengeance's siege and my own excess.

The Commander better not try to deny me that.

Sigrun grew solemn too, probably spotting how I'd gripped Hawke with a near spasm. She'd already counted herself as dead and had already said her goodbyes before she met us to become a Grey Warden. I was sure she'd seen her share of deaths since her ceremony with Velanna.

It only took a day or so to go through the cleared areas deep enough to find some genlocks; only Sigrun was with us and hanging back. This was really a formality, as Hawke could take down an emissary on her own now. I knew from talks at the Vigil, this was the minimum last test to see if a candidate could face darkspawn without folding.

This was a decade too late for that; she'd killed her first ogre before I met her.

They were a small group, only a few hurlocks, and by the time I'd activated my defenses, Hawke had already killed three of them. The rest took barely any longer

I collected the vial with shaking hands, wanting only to smash it, but Hawke rubbed my shoulders, catching on my tense muscles until I managed to force myself to relax. Tucking it into my belt pouch, I pulled her against me, whispering again, but she shook her head and kissed my forehead before we turned to leave the Deep Roads again.

When the archway into the Orzammar Commons was in view, I interrupted their chatter by giving Sigrun the vial of ichor, saying, “Sigrun, we are resting first.”

“Anders,” she warned.

“She will be there, Sigrun,” I said with a sigh. “Leave us this, please.”

Striding out towards the gate, I pulled Dera outside with me, glaring at anyone in our path. The short, ash-covered path was still a little slippery from the ice and snow in these mountains. But we made it inside the familiar safehouse again and past the common hall and to... my room, one of the few for those with partners.

I doubted many had partners.

If the Maker smiled... room would be officially be ours. I wasn't completely sure if that qualified as the Maker smiling. Unlike at the Vigil, the candidate's survival was far more important to me and much more feared.

Nearly attacking her with my kisses once the door was shut, sorrow and fear filled me far more than my usual joy. I wanted our time, this time, to last forever, with me telling Dera my feelings over and over.

Later in the dark of the night as I held her close, Dera turned on her side to face me and brushed a bit of hair off my face. Being underground, only the dimmest of glows came from a dwarven lamp, no moonlight ever reached these rooms.

I grew almost afraid of whatever she intended to say.

“Anders?” Dera whispered.

My acknowledgment was more like a sigh.

She returned my sigh and traced on my chest before speaking again. “It will be all right, love. If people like the Knight Commander have the slightest chance of going to the Maker's side, we do too. Stay with the Wardens for a few years before you do anything stupid. Promise me.”

It was both harder and easier to talk in the darkness. “Hawke, too many die in their Joinings. I won't be able to stop it, won't be able to save you this time. I'm only still human because of you, I would have been killed in Kirkwall long ago. We can still leave and flee into the wilds or someplace hidden. The Wardens don't really need you, need us. I need you. Let's go, we can be far away in a day.”

I felt disapproval from Justice, but I didn't care.

Her breath caught too, and knuckles brushed my cheek before her lips touched my forehead for only an instant. “Anders, there's nothing wrong with her reasons for this. This builds alliances for us and gives us safe havens. If we wear the uniform, even more so. We've lost almost all the allies we found over the years, this means we at least get a chance. Now I won't have to worry about fighting darkspawn either.”

“I don't care if Attryne thinks your odds are better than average, those odds of you dying are still not close enough to zero!” This was my last chance to persuade Dera, the last time we'd have the time to get away. When she didn't relax enough against me to give me hope, I started to get frustrated. _I didn't want to lose her._ _“What can I say to convince you?_ Why are you doing this? You can help people in other ways than being a Grey Warden. We can hide for years, we can try for that family; you're good at hiding, too. Why, love?”

My voice was more pleading than I wanted it to be, and I tried to pull her closer but she resisted for an instant.

Another silence and she stretched up so our faces were nearly touching. “I didn't know when you asked at that inn...”

“But you do now?” I wasn't sure if I wanted to know.

She sighed again, reluctant to speak, but she did. “I still feel a weight for those innocents that died in Kirkwall. Children, those claiming assistance or shelter, and those who may not have agreed with their leaders but had no more power to change things than we did. They all died, and we caused that.”

“No, _we_ did that! You wanted me cured.” I'd felt like bronto droppings at the time, and again now.

Hawke leaned back and spoke louder. “I _helped_ you make it! Their blood is on my hands too, and I should have recognized some of the ingredients...”

Horror made me want to gag. “You want to die. You want to leave me alone!”

Her hands braced the sides of my face. “No, of course not! But we owe _someone_ for what we did. There are no neutrals who would be able to judge between the Chantry, Circle, Templars, and Free Mages. Dwarves would if they hadn't been repeatedly in bed with Tevinter and the Chantry; they are merchants and respect only strength and money. Elves have been either ground down or don't give a damn. Qun would just love to disrupt as much as they can, but they do cruel things to their mages too. Tevinter treats everyone non-mage, like me, as lesser, a voided mirror of the Chantry.”

I wanted to interrupt, but her tone of voice was too grim and even grieving.

“Who else in Thedas might be possibly be able to judge fairly? The Warden judged that I should be conscripted into the Grey Wardens. She could have executed you, locked either of both of us in some remote prison.” Hawke gave a soft sob. “They could have killed both of us for what we did. We killed a lot of Templars and mages in the Gallows, some were probably just more scared of us than the demons already there. So, we won't be able to face any authority and argue all those rotten things that have probably been forgotten by all but a few. We owe something for all those murdered, and helping the Wardens seems to be the best option.”

“You shouldn't have to atone for what we did...” My voice sounded very small, even to me.

“Always.” Dera chided me gently.

This was worse than the Warden's overt plans, that her life was forfeit... My spirit was nearly as upset as I this time, and I didn't need to ask why. _We_ should face any justice. My breathing got ragged.

Dera hushed me and turned my face towards her again with a teasing note in her voice. “We can run away later, when they aren't watching us as closely.”

Hiccuping a laugh, I felt a little better. I protested, “You might still die.”

“She's had now many years to try to understand the Joining? You always sounded like you trusted her before.”

“I didn't care! I didn't know those recruits like you, love.” I cared, like for any patient who died but not in the consuming way for Hawke.

“How about I try to wait for you in the Fade, then. And I want a very long wait,” Dera said wistfully.

That gave me an idea. _Is there any way you can help her there?_ I demanded from Justice.

_**I don't think so.** _

I leaned forward so our foreheads touched and my throat felt like someone had punched me there. “I cannot promise anything, but I will try. Stay.”

Hawke cuddled closer and finished by saying, “I'll try.”

After she fell asleep, and I realized I was weeping. Mopping my eyes, I watched her sleep.

I couldn't sleep, I didn't want to lose a moment with her.

We rose and washed, I would not let go of her as we went out to the hall. A meal was eaten, though we only picked at it. I had no idea what I ate. By the time it was over and the hall cleared of most, Hawke was the only non-Warden left.

“Anders,” the Warden Commander finally said, “It's time.”

Hawke stood slowly, from out where she'd been tucked beside me. Even now, if she gave the word, I'd try my best to get her away. The only thing that gave her tension away was the way she gripped my hand. I rose with her, following to the open space where Attryne and Alistair were standing. The rest who I knew by name rose as well, Sigrun, Durin, Mahel, Tharlin, and Ednund. Alistair glared at me when I remained beside Hawke, but I only glared back at him. I'd never heard of any rule against this, nor did I care if there was one. I'd knock him off his feet first.

Hawke's eyes were glazed and unseeing, and she was biting her lip.

“We all know, the cost and the need for the Joining. Vigilance includes making sure we are better prepared for the next blight or next Architect,” Attryne said musingly. “Short sighted idiocy still hampers our recruiting elves, mages, or casteless dwarves. The First Warden thinks we can let it slide, that we have the time before the next blight. I don't think so. That is not vigilant enough, as we don't know if there are any more of the Firsts, that they may somehow trigger another archdemon like the Architect implied.”

Attryne looked at Alistair, who spoke solemnly. “The Grey Warden Riordan told us this, shortly before he fell while fighting the Archdemon high over Denerim. 'We aren't judges. Kinslayers, blood mages, traitors, rebels, Carta thugs, and common bandits. Anyone with the skill and nerve to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us.' The Joining binds us to the darkspawn; we cannot flee away from this oath and duty. We will find them in the blighted lands and Deep Roads, or they will find us.”

Hawke jerked, moving her elbow towards my side, but stopped.

Alistair's voice got louder and harsher. “We are vigilant. We fight. And we die, to serve **everyone** , not just Teyrns and princes but also slaves and dusters and mages. They must be allowed to fight too, for all of Thedas, Ferelden, and themselves.”

His voice was suddenly ringing, and I believed those rumors about him for the first time. He _could_ have led armies across the land, but he shielded it and met the Commander's eyes.

She continued. “The First Warden does not approve, does not believe that vigilance includes recruiting from the **best** in Thedas and not knuckling down to the powerful who have already forgotten the blight. As Arlessa, I have enough authority in Ferelden alone to work for our post-blight recovery and improve our future recruiting. If we had had only noble Wardens recruited from tournaments to fight the Blight, the Archdemon would have taken a lot more than Ferelden... Senior Warden.”

Taking up the Joining cup, Alistair began to speak. As he did, the hall took on a breathless silence. “Since the first, these words have been spoken at the ceremony: Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.”

These words were already burnt into my memory despite having last heard them ten years ago. As his words continued, I almost heard them rising from the ground around me in whispery voices, barely audible compared to Alistair's voice.

“Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

By the end of this, despite my intentions, my eyes had drifted shut and I realized I was speaking those words too. With that ending, my eyes snapped open, and I stepped against Dera even as Alistair stepped forward with the cup.

I met her eyes, hoping. But she shook her head the tiniest bit and I had to gulp down on my objection.

Another glare from Alistair but he didn't speak, perhaps because Attryne touched his shoulder. When he looked at her, his anger faded and he nodded.

Hawke held my hand tightly and reached for the cup. Smiling with a bravado that made my heart hurt, she took a large gulp and she met my eyes.

As soon as she had swallowed, and before she'd even had the chance to make a face at the foulness, I pulled her against myself while keeping eye contact. The only thing I was thinking, over and over, was, ' _Maker, please.'_

I'd hoped to tell her I loved her one more time, but she began to convulse and slide to the floor, limply sliding through my fingers. Sagging down with her, my throat hurting, I laid her out carefully and waited.

Her fit didn't last long, only moments and years. I checked her health, and I could see the taint moving in her much more quickly than blood or alcohol spread, bound by the magic in lyrium more than like poisons. I'd never closely monitored this before, and I didn't know if this was the sign of success or failure, so I knelt by her and ran my fingers through her hair.

It must have been only a few minutes in the silence but Hawke's eyes fluttered open while I was bent over her, and her eyes smiled weakly before she started being more conventionally sick.

Relieved chatter sprang up around us while I tried to lift her up from the floor. My own knees were weak and all I could do was pull her upright and hold her loosely as she retched part of what she had taken in.

“Anders?” Alistair bent over and was offering.

When I nodded, he scooped her up easily and carried her towards our room. I staggered after them.

Once Hawke was settled on the blue coverlet, he stepped back and said, “You're to report to the Commander in the morning, before anything besides food. This won't work if you don't make a greater attempt to stay in contact with other Wardens. And we may need to call upon you as well.”

“Yes, yes,” I said in a sing-song as he left. I put a basin beside Hawke and started cleaning us off. She had passed out again, and my fears would not dissipate because she was so, so still.

Paws jumped up on the bed. I started to glare, but even I could tell he was upset, with his ears back and tail stub low. He set his head on her leg and whined; after some dry retching, Hawke woke enough to scratch his ears.

I could feel her taint now, even if it wasn't as fully permeated as in the rest of us, and mourned it as I had not before, even for myself.

“Has your stomach settled, love?” I asked carefully. At her nod, I put my arms around her and we held onto each other for a long moment. She hiccuped once more, but we still held.

Finally she said against my chest, “That crap is really vile. I half expected it to crawl back up like a snake...”

Startled into a chuckle, I shook my head and said to the tiny thread of fear remaining in her voice, “No, you woke up. There's still many ways to die, but not from what you drank, for now.”

“Feel a bit tired,” she claimed with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Sleep love. There's no Blight on the doorstep,” I had to smile at the disbelief in her snort, but she was falling asleep again as I caressed her hair.

I had to prepare her to sleep. Getting her out of her armor wasn't any fun for the first time, but my guilt over her Joining had not been lessened by its success. So I held her in my arms and counted her breaths until I slept as well. I wasn't totally surprised to dream of darkspawn. I'd gotten used to being dream-free since I hosted Justice, but I got to enjoy nightmares again with Vengeance's departure.

This time I'd been completely exhausted and my dreams were especially detailed, vivid, and real-seeming. First an old memory of fighting the Architect with Attryne, Justice, and Nathaniel in that blasted tower. I remembered that we'd had words then, but the Commander agreed about demolishing the Architect's plans. Even in the dream I knew something was wrong there.

But as we fought the Architect it became more of a chase as he kept getting away and taking Velanna's sister ever further into the unfamiliar deep roads with armies of darkspawn. Typical Warden dreams I supposed, but the Deep Roads where we fought were now an amalgam of all the deep roads I'd seen now and yet different. Ka'Hirol and Kirkwall were where I'd spent most of my time as a Warden. But the roads near Orzammar resembled roads above ground at times, feeling far less confining to me, especially with Hawke along in her Champion gear.

The Deep Roads in my dream became more like a fever dream, where a Circle tower was inside out and Deep underground, with demons wearing the bodies of mages I once knew. Darkspawn were gushing up directly into the archives too and apprentice mage quarters becoming the line of defense for the Vigil. Hawke and I fought the demons and Justice was like a strangling caul on my body as we fought in the Fade. Bodies of mages, Wardens, and even Templars scattered around the room. We wore a Warden uniform now, as was Hawke, and I was afraid we were the only ones left. I didn't want my Calling to doom her too, as I blasted all our attackers with ice. But one of my iceblasts cracked the stone and she was crushed before my eyes, leaving me alone in the weighted darkness of the Deep Roads.

I woke Hawke, screaming.

Taking deep, ragged breaths, it took me some moments to believe she still lived, that she hadn't died from my Calling. She held me tight, murmuring in my ear, even if she didn't look rested either.

I had to find some way to keep her safe, whether she wanted to protect me or not. Something...

Thinking as she rocked us, it came to me again: family. That 'pipe-dream' would have been an answer, because she wouldn't leave children unprotected when my Calling came. I didn't know how, now, but she should have that extra decade.

Hawke fell back in to her own dreams once I'd calmed, leaving me to try to figure out how to make her a mother without losing her and hoping she'd find someone else. How many had I met who might be worthy of her, but weren't Wardens? Of course I might take her to the _Pearl_ and get her drunk, but I wasn't sure I could manage that one either.

Thoughts of her again visiting the _Rose_ chased me back into sleep, like what happened in my darker days after the fiasco in the Deep Roads when she'd lost her sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: The chapter title is adapted from a quote by W. H. Auden. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated._
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> _Things get better for Anders, I promise._


	5. Marching Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repercussions continue from many earlier events and Anders must face what his actions have cost him and the understanding of having a whipping boy.

_**Chapter 5: Marching Orders** _

**Orzammar, The Grey Warden outpost**

**Hawke:**

My sleep was restless with fleeting memories of nightmares, more than my usual, and I was very glad that the Fade had little risk for me aside from not sleeping as well. When I finally woke for the day, Anders was sleeping. He didn't even wake when I got out of bed and dressed. I moved his cat onto him, remembering his old complaint and went out with Paws for a time.

My mabari seemed reassured that I was better now, even if he sometimes sniffed me with almost a look of worry. I got a lump in my throat when I realized that he would be long gone before the taint could call me.

When Paws and I reentered the granite arch in the mountainside that served the Wardens, the youngster writing some report inside the entrance just waggled a wave. Looked like check-ins were a thing of the past for me.

I was feeling hungry enough to eat the horse I'd rode in on, but I returned to our room as I was worried about Anders. Becoming a Warden was just another necessity, amongst the many regrets I'd had over the years. Many caused me more pain, such as the deaths I'd caused while working for Atheneril and that I hadn't bodily taken Papa to a healing mage when he grew weaker, even if they were Circle linked.

Anders wasn't quite stirring, so I traced a finger along his ear to wake him. He was smiling before he'd opened his eyes.

“Good morning, my handsome mage,” I said with a smile. “Can we go find some food now?”

I guessed my voice was a little more plaintive than I'd wanted, as he laughed.

He sat up and hugged me, saying, “I think you will eat much in the coming weeks, love. It does lessen a little... eventually.”

“We're going to need to keep raiding thaigs, just to afford to eat, aren't we?” I asked, hoping he'd take it well.

Anders' grimace at the reminder of the Deep Roads didn't last that long, but he did manage to bounce back at me with a smirk, “I hope you get to like spider and deep mushrooms for meals then, Hawke. It's much better if you cook it.”

I had to make a face at that as I'd been more willing to go hungry for a while down there than eat spiders. Right now I was hungry enough to be wondering for a second if a lot of butter and garlic would help... then I realized that was silly as we couldn't carry enough butter along with us for the Deep Roads.

Looking him in the eye, I granted the point while waving my fingers at him. “I'm hungry enough right now to ask if there's some kind of magic that can make or summon butter for us to cook the spider-meat with,”

Anders choked, and then laughed. “If I could do that, we wouldn't need to eat spiders, but I will keep an eye out for that magic. _Summon Buttered Toast_ I don't think should require demons or blood magic, eh?” 

Maybe I looked pitiful enough at the idea of toast that he swung his legs around to get up and get dressed.

When we reached the mess, Anders was very helpful in piling food on to my large plate, and then got me a second one, assuring me that I'd finish it. I could feel my eyes boggle at it, not quite believing it, even with all they'd said. I did finish it all and Anders had a merry glint in his eyes when he brought a small tray of a cobbler. 

The few wardens I knew were grinning as well when they ate their own large breakfasts. My only consolation was that Anders was the only one present for my entire meal. So I hadn't quite attracted a crowd for my almost frenzied eating.

Looking at the empty containers, I could feel myself flush. That might have been enough to feed my entire family in Lothering.

Sliding closer to put an arm around me, Anders' smile faded again. “It will pass, love. Eventually, the worst of that hunger lessens a little, but never as small as what it was before. I've heard rumors that a true lack is one of the signs your Calling will be soon.”

I poked him in the belly with one finger, saying, “You still eat enough for two... and I hadn't really seen that since...” I had to stop, as the memory touched on flared painfully.

Bringing his arm up to pull my head against his, I took a breath and finished my thought. “I remember how much Carver always inhaled as soon as he started shooting up.” _Now he was the only one of us who did not become a warden, and he had been so envious at Orzammar._

After a moment or two of silence, Anders asked, “Hawke, do you want to go see the Commander now... or would you rather go back to bed?”

The leer was faint, but I wanted to get the meeting over with. I was pretty sure we weren't going to be put in the rank and file, as my conscription had been more covert. At worst, we'd just take off, like Anders had before. It'd be much harder to catch up with us if we kept moving.

“Later,” I said as a promise.

He made a face at that, but he wasn't upset; Anders only looked towards the other quarters. “Let's get the lecture over with then.”

We weren't the most cheerful pair when I knocked at the door. In that pause before I did, I could hear some conversation very faintly through the door.

It opened, and Alistair actually smiled on seeing us. “Good to see that you're up and about. Come in.”

Anders held my hand as we entered. There was a couple of chairs in front of a desk, plainly ready to give us a talking to. When I looked at Anders, his only reaction was a frown. I smiled, hoping to soften his irritation.

Anders cut in front and sat down, pulling me to sit low in his lap. He'd done this before but not in front of others, and so I could feel myself blush. He kicked up his legs onto the desk, leaving me almost sprawled across him. Trying to sit up, he put his arms around me possessively, saying, “No, recruit,” in a growl.

My determination to remain optimistic faded, and I nearly broke free. I wanted to cry a little at this sudden change in Anders.

When I looked at Attryne and Alistair, they looked grimly at my mage.

“Anders, what do you mean by this?” the Warden-Commander said with a bit of anger.

“I want to make sure you don't think you aren't getting any drone bees for your army, Attryne. The Champion and I have other responsibilities as well, there isn't a Blight, and we don't need you lecturing us. We don't need our hands held or supervision to make sure we are diligent in fighting darkspawn. I've long ago lost count of how many we've killed over the years.” Anders was determined.

“Mage...” Alistair started to say.

Glaring at him, Anders insisted, “That has _nothing_ to do with this. Hawke bends over backwards sometimes trying to help everyone, but there should be limits. The Commander only has the Wardens' concerns now, but Hawke gets pulled in even more directions than Attryne. You bitched about it yourself when you visited at the Vigil, when it was only the city and the Vigil pulling on **her**. We have many more enemies all over Thedas, not just in one country and not just for what I've done.” Glaring at Attryne, Anders finished, “You don't own us in total, no matter what kind of promise you hope to convince her to give.”

Alistair moved behind the Commander's shoulder, though he didn't speak.

Attryne frowned and said, “I see. Well then, I will go over what we expect, what we'd like to see, and other things you need to know, if that would be acceptable, Anders?”

“Yes,” Anders said in a passable imitation of Alistair's upper class accent.

It was a lecture, and I wasn't used to those, fidgeting after a while. I'd never had formal instruction. Even my brief time in the Fereldan army gave only a short list of guidelines, there'd been no time for special training. I'd also suspected those who were training us before Ostagar didn't expect us to survive.

How many of them had survived?

Still, the lecture about killing darkspawn, supporting other wardens' missions, and passable manners to other senior wardens. That came with a slight glare at Anders from Alistair. What we were supposed to not do was often political, like making kings. Attryne admitted that during a Blight, that rule was much softer, as long as it served the fight. I was given a summary of major warden holdings, the Vigil I'd already heard much of, and a once forgotten base that had been lost to political siege and demon possession.

That Anders had not known by the way he got tense about the possessed Warden-Commander and the ancient blood mage there. That name had even been on a potion we'd acquired in Kirkwall, and I felt ill. They also gave us the news of the three thaigs that had known living dwarves, and _She_ made sure I understood about broodmothers.

It was almost too much even with the parts I already knew.

My becoming a Grey Warden was as much about reinforcing that _anyone_ could be conscripted, so once it was more known, we were to openly watch for candidates on our travels. If necessary, we were to conduct their Joinings, but either way we were to send them to outposts for training. Then came the darkest parts about Joining and Anders learning how to prepare the cup. Anders stiffened at the story of Jory and shook his head slightly but we were reminded of our oaths.

The Warden-Commander's eyes glistened and her voice was rough as she'd spoken, finishing that those that died in the Joining were still considered full wardens and that was most of the reason returning to our old lives was discouraged.

Alistair admitted with a fond smile at Attryne that this rule was often ignored.

Then came the boring stuff, listed by Alistair: the outposts, senior wardens, known projects and thaig explorations... problems. Tevinter was a problem, even if some became wardens, almost always non-mages unless there was a Blight. The Qun were another problem, as they did not know of any becoming wardens. One Sten had fought in the Blight with them, but they were unsure if the Qun as a group understood the danger. They'd never faced a major Blight. Full Templars had already proved that they were not very good at severing their allegiances once they were Wardens,

That almost sounded like an oblique apology to Anders, but he didn't react.

Mage, Templar, and Chantry unrest was another problem, Alistair allowed, but the Warden Commander wished it resolved in such a way to free mages to fight in the next Blight.

Anders sat up at that, and finally spoke, aside from snarky whispers, “You're taking sides? What does the _First Warden_ say?”

The First Warden must have been a bone of contention from his tone.

“He says that I'm a spoiled noblewoman with no comradeship of proper wardens, long view, or training. He can't demote me, as we survived while the Senior Warden died in Denerim. He disapproved of the fact that far too many, including Templar forces, witnessed that we killed the Archdemon, and not him. He hates that Alistair and I didn't turn out to be conveniently dead Heroes.” She looked grim at these examples of politics within the Wardens. “Their cringing may have been somewhat useful once, but catering to the powerful only lets us recruit a few talented individuals instead of all we need, so he's not looking at the long view.”

Looking a little pale, Alistair admitted, “It was magic, perhaps a form of blood magic that allowed us to survive the Archdemon's death. And the Joining is plainly...” he finished with a wave of his hand at me.

“Without magic, _there are no wardens_ and fewer ways to fight the darkspawn. So along with freeing the mages, I'd like you to recruit from among them. You can mention it shortens their lifespan, but no other of the darker details, that's the big important core. We need mages, and that will be your primary duty, unless the First Warden personally countermands me; everything beyond general recruitment is secret even from Wardens, at your discretion. Just don't go to the Anderfels where the First Warden is, until the mage war's over, Anders.”

“Attryne?” he asked with wide eyes, disbelieving her terms.

With a faint smile she said, “I thought the Circles should fall as soon as I'd seen Kinloch and talked to Wynne about her life. The things she could not _allow_ herself to be angry over sickened me. How many at the Circle could have defended their home if they'd been allowed to live in Denerim? I had already put two rulers on thrones and gotten so many threatening letters from Weisshaupt when I met Anders that my hands were tied. All I'd been able to do about mages in Ferelden was loosen their chains a little as Orlais was already a threat when they couldn't marry into the kingdom. Freeing mages totally would have crushed Ferelden and the remains of its Circle.”

Anders sighed and pulled me back more gently. It would have come too late for him, even if she'd managed it.

“Now I'm practically a statesman after a decade and my forced travels have been of some use for knowledge and contacts, so I can act now and you are free agents... Since Hawke is native born, and was recruited here, I have the authority, even if the First Warden gets pissed.

“And Anders, I like you much better now,” the Warden-Commander said with a smile. “Honeybees and drones don't get the girl.”

Anders looked dismayed at her admission for a moment. He'd resettled us on the seat while they'd spoken, becoming a little less militant, but his anger returned. “But Attryne, how could you do that to Hawke, to me? You _used_ Hawke as leverage on me, just like the Templars do.”

“No, not really like the Templars do, Anders. I did what I did, not because of fear or prejudice. You killed how many in that Chantry? Do you even know how many were in those halls, that weren't Templars or ranked brothers and sisters? Templars act because of fear and hate. I've acted because of what you did. You were just enough in the right that execution or tranquility would not be quite right either. So like any Warden recruit, I balanced your future usefulness with what is necessary to ensure you think a lot harder about your plans.” The Warden's voice was flat and gray.

I slipped my arm around Anders, to remind him I was here.

He ignored me, “So you decided the Champion of Kirkwall was to be my whipping boy?”

“If that was what it takes, then yes.” Alistair said in a clipped voice. “She is a proven fighter as well. Wardens are often a strong presence at any Champion tournament, both as competitors and for recruiting. We need Wardens who will not crumble at challenges from the powerful and the offer of shelter was an honest one.”

Anders sagged and held me close, whispering another apology.

Maybe it hadn't sunk in, but an official respite from being hunted and new allies was worth the rather slim chance of a family.

“It won't be that bad, Anders. You shouldn't have too many assignments.” Attryne smiled faintly and reached into the desk. “Here.”

She tossed something small to us, and I caught it before giving it to Anders, without much thought.

Anders held it in his palm, a small vial, before he gripped it tightly. “Thank you.”

“I needed to be sure that you weren't an insane abomination and able to control yourself, first.” The Warden was smiling again.

Anders was looking around and spotted a small brazier in the corner that was keeping the underground room warm. He stood us up and moved closer while the flames flared. Opening the seal with his knife he poured the crimson liquid out where it sizzled and evaporated as he grinned. Then he smashed the vial into uncountable pieces and swung me around with a kind of joy.

The other two looked amused. Alistair handed us papers, and that seemed to be that as we were waved off.

Before I could even read it, Anders pulled both of us out into the hall the joy gone.

“I'm really glad my phylactery is gone, but what they did...” he muttered as he pulled me along behind him.

Shaking his hand off, I stopped in the hall and asked, “And how does this change our plans again?”

Anders was angry and he hated feeling confined in any way. “We're supposed to be some kind of beacon to convince others to give up their lives and chances of a life of their own? How is that much of an improvement over being trapped in a Circle? At least there, they have nice beds and known nightmares from the Fade. Some may even have no Templars now...”

I was hungry already, but I pulled him back to our room where our pets were.

Sitting on the bed I tried to speak calmly. “How much of that was at our discretion? She even explicitly gave us time to do other things before starting publicly as Wardens. How much more freedom do you want? So we watch for anyone competent, who fights well, and might be able to turn aside from their current lives to defend others? Isn't that how you Joined? And you just spent most of the last ten years working on other things, helped some by the reputation of the Wardens.”

As he simmered a little less, I reminded him, “How likely was it we would have even met? You wouldn't have had backup at the Chantry that first day when meeting Karl, and we would have been just another dead expedition into the Deep Roads.”

He sighed. “That was always one of my fears. love. Not about Karl, we'd faced more before, even if it cost me that scar on my chest. You dying, your veins blackening from the Blight instead of your sister, or in addition to her. And then every other time we fought darkspawn, worrying that this time I'd miss an injury. I was safe from it and had had to watch others die, who couldn't be saved by any spell.

“It made me hate the Deep Roads that much more. I couldn't **not** go with you into the dark, but even then I wanted you safe. Despite Justice's objections. I'd follow you anywhere, Dera,” Anders said with a sad smile.

“But you wouldn't believe I would follow you into the dark, Anders?” I almost mourned.

“You belong in the sun and wind, love, like any hawk. There's no light in the Deep Roads.” Anders mourned as well.

Forcing something for his image, I said, “You're the one that glows, in the Deep Roads, in the Gallows' tunnels, in the Chantry. I'm in the shadows, that's where I fight from, not the brightness.”

“Warrior's choice: burn bright or die unmourned,” Anders said wistfully, cupping my cheek.

“So we're burning brightly together,” I told him with a brief kiss and a smile. “At least you saved me from even considering Vael or Fenris for a date.”

Smirk growing, Anders agreed. “Glad to be of service, my lady... recruit.”

Poking his chest I told him, “I didn't like being treated like that. I'm not _your_ game-piece either. I thought we'd agreed on that after Kirkwall.”

“I won't allow you to be used up for a war that will not end in our lifetimes.” Anders was annoyed again. “You don't know them like I do, like _both Justice and I_ do. She meant it back at the _Kestral_ about breaking hearts and lives. They are all cold bastards at heart and you are not to make the wardens look more noble than they are, more organized and powerful than some part-time club to fight darkspawn. Their need for the outcasts of Thedas is inverse to the currency of a blight.

“How many wardens did we see over the years who weren't human fighters and rogues? Bethany was the only mage I saw in the groups around Kirkwall. No one else _was allowed_ to be Wardens on their watch. How engrained is their distrust of mages now? They know how many won them the so-called little Blight. How much of the Black City crap have they swallowed hook, line, and sinker?”

“Anders,” I started to say, but he was too angry to stop.

“How much do they love their damn uniform more than fighting their blights?!”

Leaning my cheek against him and hugging him close, I didn't speak for several moments.

When I thought my rubbing his back had made a difference, I suggested, “You do remember how many jobs I reneged on, if the required acts were foul or the contact had lied to us. I won't change in that.”

Another moment, I added while tracing his collarbone along his pauldrons, “Besides, I think you look handsome in blue once in a while.”

“Well, there is that...” he allowed with a faint smile in his voice now.

Lifting my chin, he added more earnestly, “Dera, I just don't want to lose you to the coldness the wardens _all_ get to be. I remember when Bethany was sweeter, the sunshine that Varric named her. But now she's colder and more bitter. I hated how she spoke to you the next few times we saw her.”

I wondered, possibly for the first time at how much Anders had lost from his Joining. I'd always thought his harsher moments were only from Justice. A moment to think and I leaned my head closer to say, “How much sweetness did you lose, Anders?”

He tensed at my question, looking confused, and not from Justice. Maybe to reassure himself, he laid a trail of kisses on my face until he could bury his face in my hair. “I don't know. No one I know now, knew me before the Wardens. I think they all died during the Blight.” Then he seemed to just breathe for a time.

Remembering we were still in the hallway I asked, “Back to our room?” But just after that, my stomach rumbled, loudly.

Anders was surprised into a laugh and said a little mockingly, “After we find you a roast nug, with all the trimmings, right, love?”

Raising my hand, I ran a finger along the length of his nose, saying, “You're still very sweet. I'll be sure to tell you if you become a total ass.”

“Promises, promises...” came as his face lightened more.

Taking my wrist before I could lower it, he turned his face to kiss my palm, his stubble tickling as he did. His eyes closed, I traced them and then his eyebrows with my fingertips.

Ander's voice was only a little muffled by my hand when he said, “All the trimmings,” as he pulled me back towards our room.

I caught up and grinned at him, “We're going the wrong way.”

“No. This healer thinks you need much more rest. I have to be vigilant and protect your honeyed sweetness.” His face was almost grim, but his eyes were much warmer.

Later, I think I must have eaten the entire nug but the squeal, while Anders watched indulgently once he was done eating. I couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed, even if no one else seemed to notice.

Sigrun joined us with her own well-filled plate and a smile. “The Commander made it clear that your Joining, while not a secret, is not to be bragged outside. I'm glad you survived it, Champion.”

“So am I,” I patted Anders' arm. “This guy's not too good at staying out of trouble.”

Sigrun's face always seemed a little odd when her tattoos looked a bit like a skull, but her smile became a giggle. “Does he still shout that the ogres should suck on a fireball? I always thought he was funny as he used a blizzard spell more often than fire...”

Another surprise, as I hadn't seen that much cold over larger areas, not affecting a larger area like Bethany could with her fire.

“I... have trouble with that spell now, I've only been able to cast it a very few times since we fought together, Sigrun.” He looked unhappy in a flavor wasn't quite identifiable. “And only recently.”

Sliding closer, I hooked one arm in his and tried to keep the worry out of my voice, “Recently?”

Gripping my hand, Anders admitted, his head bobbling from a swallow, “When you fall and I can't get them off you. Like that small army of the Varl's... You are too fragile in combat for my comfort and it almost makes me miss the blasted elf. Almost.”

“Army?” Sigrun perked up. “What kind of army did you face since I last saw you, Sparklefingers, and why didn't I hear of it before?”

Anders jumped for the topic change, though his grip on my hand and arm said he hadn't relaxed much. “It was a cold and dark winter's night, the campsite Merrill knew of, was uphill with ten feet of snow in the way, both ways. Sleet pounded against our frail clothing. When, out of the deep ditch covered in white sheets of wet silk with silver and gold stitching, sprang a thousand, no, thousands of archers and assassins desperate to collect the boundless wealth offered for the head of a handsome and powerful apostate mage. Their leader shouted from far in the rear where it was safe, that they should slaughter the fine-looking mage and all his companions; the ass shouted and frothed at the mouth, waving his arm like a prince, actually...”

I had to laugh at that, and interrupted his fancy by saying, “It wasn't that epic. He wasn't that far in the rear, but archers have to stay back too.” Suddenly a hot iron of guilt hit me in the stomach, and I could feel my face flush.

I remembered how my daggers had slipped through that silly-looking armor, drenching us in blood.

_My vision had almost gone into a black tunnel from my anger and I dropped those daggers so I could beat his pretty face. His kind never had to suffer directly for the hate they spread around. He hadn't had to suck it up over and over when people were taken and threatened. He hadn't had to keep going through the pain. He never had to be sick with dread that a loved one was under a threat of hollow destruction from people who pretended to be good. He'd been a protected treasure and hadn't had to work and sacrifice. He wasn't sheltered anymore..._

Trapped back in that moment, I couldn't breathe and began to shake with both rage and self-revulsion.

“... Dera, love. Shh, I'm safe, remember? For the rest of our days...”

Anders was holding me tightly, without my even noticing. _Just like when it happened. The next thing I realized was his warm arms round me and him talking into my ear._ Still, I was ashamed at what I'd done, I'd nearly killed Vael, despite all the times he'd fought in sometimes petty jobs without much complaint. Despite the fact that he expressed some of my own horror at what happened.

Killing him couldn't make my anger and horror go away.

Killing him couldn't end the threat to us, to mages.

Killing him _only_ made me an assassin.

He'd survived, the only attacker that did; the mass of attackers fell to Anders and Merrill even while I was trying to kill a one time friend. 

Turning within Anders' embrace, I hiccuped and said, “Might as well be a Warden, then there'd be a good use of a killer like me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated._


	6. Continuous Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke adapts, more willingly than Anders is. Sigrun has an idea.

**Chapter 6: Continuous Adjustment in Relations**

**Orzammar, The Grey Warden outpost**

**Anders:**

I held onto Dera as her shaking finally slowed, but her next words were like a blade in my heart. I looked at Sigrun, feeling helpless, even as I held Hawke close.

Anyone who wanted me dead, I'd been willing to kill for a long time, but Hawke tried to make sure adversaries couldn't be reasoned with. I couldn't complain, as I lived only because she believed I was better than what we'd done.

_But when she beat Sebastian, that wasn't the clean and fast deaths she usually gave our enemies._

_She drew it out, prolonging his pain after he'd gotten a fatal wound that prevented his fighting._

_I'd been afraid of an explosion of violence when we were found by Isabela, that their confrontation would end in bloody carnage. I'd been afraid that we had pulled my free-flying hawk into the darkness with us. I'd been afraid I'd lose her into rage, as much as any demon._

_I'd been petrified that Vengeance was corrupting her too._

_So I'd stopped her and healed the archer, without any time to really talk about that moment for far too long._

I thought she'd been fine once he lived and a truce was set. Then I thought that rage had passed safely and that she didn't really remember.

I was wrong, very wrong and my heart broke for her, hidden inside my skin,

I really didn't know what to say, even if I had to speak now before I lost her attention. “Love, no. You aren't... you aren't a cold killer.”

Words were failing me. I could find them against Templars and Fenris, but I didn't know what to say to my love. She was shaking her head as I held her close, trying to will my warmth into her. 

“Nah.” Sigrun spoke for the first time in in a while. “You're too sneaky to be just a killer, Champion. Yeah, some Wardens are not much more than efficient killers, but they rarely get beyond the rank and file. They're the ones who like the prestige of the armor more than understand what it means. I don't think any of us recruited against the Architect and Mother wear ours unless it's to annoy someone.” She sat up. “But this ain't the Free Marches, where I hear they insist on Orlesian fashion more than here. Maybe that lack of dwarves and elves as Wardens there is because Orlais and that Chantry was still more powerful.”

“It was,” I agreed with a smile that somehow hurt. I thought I loved Sigrun, just for having words right now. I kissed Dera by her temple and whispered, “You're my hope, love. I've seen so many cold killers, all my life. I need your warmth.”

Her frame shaking with a sigh, my Hawke met my eyes and said, “You're my hope, too.”

After a moment, Sigrun said dryly, “Now that we've finished the mushy stuff, I'm to check to make sure Warden Anders has been refreshed on all those things he blew off before. He's a male and they usually need reminding a few dozen extra times.”

When Hawke laughed, I felt better too despite being the butt of the joke.

“Just when you Joined is not to be advertised, though not a secret, keep to the 'after you became Champion' to non-wardens for a year or two. Blame Nathaniel Howe, he won't mind...” Sigrun smirked as she told us.

“Much,” I had to say, as Nate didn't appreciate our humor enough. I would have to come up with some extremely funny recruitment story that would annoy him if anyone asks, and wait until he hears about his recruit.

“Two: You are both assigned to recruitment, under the Warden-Commander's personal orders. Three: When you are close to warden outposts, you are to check in for messages and offer assistance if you can to the commanders.” Sigrun was much too smug.

That made me suspicious and I was horrified at a stray thought. “Maker, please tell me Oghren isn't commanding _anything._ He said he was born here, didn't he?”

“No,” Sigrun snorted. “But it would almost be worth it for this look on your face. He's staying close to his little nug and that thaig near the Vigil. I'm still commanding here, unless some duster wants on a Proving and I humor him.”

Hawke snorted. “That explains our last visit then.”

Grinning, Sigrun added, “This visit too, I hope. How could a human who isn't a Warden do that well in a Proving? Must have cheated. Might get trickier as they complained about your reach, despite the fact that we only use daggers. I've always thought they're compensating for something with their swords.”

Hawke's grin said she was interested again, and the money she'd gotten had helped restore our equipment after we'd fled Kirkwall. We'd managed to spend a lot over the winter and on those horses in Redcliffe. I'd hated watching the final match, unable to do anything. 

“Can I help?” popped right out of my mouth.

_I was volunteering for a probable death match, had I gone insane?_

“Don't see why not, Anders. Attryne's final round had magic,” came from a smirking Sigrun. “We may have larger groups than usual since they now respect her fighting, but Hawke told me you'd faced Carta many times so I don't think this'll be a problem. They preen for the crowds too much, all of 'em.”

Hawke rubbed my back and looked pleased. Well, I could revive any who might otherwise die, if I was on the sand. And we could keep her alive.

I'd have to reconsider my spells for the stronger magic resistance here in Orzammar. Already thinking about that, I remembered the blasted formality Attryne and Alistair told us. “Oh, yes. Lovely Sigrun, are there any messages?”

“Yes, Senior Warden,” Sigrun said, still with a thread of laughter. “We have one from Warden Hawke...”

For a second I wondered why Hawke would bother, since she was close enough to whisper anything she wanted into my ear, but then I remembered Bethany who was now nearly as senior as I, even if she Joined well after the Blight and Architect.

Hawke's face lit up, and she said her thanks in a careful voice that didn't hide her pleasure. It was a breath of sunshine and tulips for her, and I smiled too. She carefully put it into a pocket for later, her smile getting more reflective.

Sigrun returned to the other topic, “I think I'll need to speak with the Proving Master, to take you along. To start the speculation and cook the odds a bit in out favor, it's all part of the play. You should be in some Warden armor instead of your feathers, Sparklefingers.” She rubbed her hands together. “They will think it's a two Warden team, still without a warrior. They aren't used to that.”

So they talked about the tactics and combat cues they'd used last time, and then I added the spells I thought more useful. Negotiating the rules for the bouts might take days or even weeks and I volunteered to give up fire spells, since they weren't my strongest even if most feared them instinctively.

Then I got taken to the Stores and got a fresh and shiny new uniform that I didn't want. Hawke wasn't the first human to join here, many had because of the ever-present and convenient darkspawn. I tried not to resent that Hawke wasn't issued a uniform. And at the same time I was glad she wasn't.

Hawke tried not to smirk at me, and pretty much failed to be convincing. Every time I pouted, I got a kiss, so I had no motive to stop.

So, Sigrun escorted us back to our room, ostensibly to make sure I wore my armor correctly. After some helpful adjustments on Sigrun's directions, and less so from an amused Hawke, the blue and silverite armor was almost comfortable.

“We're going to need to get these enhanced somehow,” I told both of them. “I am not taking _**my**_ armor apart for those few times I might wear this armor.”

“We do have some good smiths in Orzammar. I was so _very_ shocked when I discovered that,” Sigrun said with a laugh.

I wasn't really paying attention to Sigrun, as Hawke was tracing the lines of blue and silverite up and down my front intently. It was very distracting, and I said, “Time to visit the Proving Grounds?”

“Anders, pay attention.” Sigrun nearly shouted. 

I looked at her, wondering why she'd gotten so loud.

Sigrun shook her head with a smile. “I _thought_ you were bad at the Vigil with your bedmates when you were off duty. I know several smiths who are quite willing to upgrade your armor, at a decent cost, too.”

I looked at Hawke, worried about my past, but she either didn't mind or didn't catch the reference. “I will need to, my Kirkwall set is just about perfect now...”

“I think you need to replace some of the feathers, love,” Hawke said against my ear. “They're starting to look a little mangy from Ser Mew's attentions.”

When we passed by the common room Attryne and Alistair were there, and geared up for travel, in their uniforms yet, so Sigrun stopped. Alistair was back to being wry, as jokes about Provings, skirmishes, and travel bounced back and forth between Sigrun and the Warden with occasional comments from the rest. 

The former Templar seemed relaxed as we listened while they debated combat, and I felt unexpectedly in charity with him as the rogues traded tips with each other. Their tips wouldn't help for either of us in a fight.

He stepped closer. “This does _not_ resemble my younger days at Redcliffe where women, servants or not, would chatter about cooking or children at any gathering.”

I could see some of my own regret on his face. “Too bad.”

“Yes, Attryne is not much for anything but the most basic of camp food, despite trying.” Alistair's grin looked a little forced, but we understood each other in this.

I had to sigh, as the Warden had been nearly as close to her family before she was conscripted by Duncan as Hawke. I was the only one who had not been raised with the probability of having a family, so how much harder might it be for them?

There were no good answers, but what would happen to any surviving Wardens after the last Archdemon was destroyed?

They finished their goodbyes. Attryne and Alistair were planning a discreet swing through other lands, checking on how Wardens were faring through the current unrest, and it sounded like they were planning to encourage some restraint against supporting the Templars. They had been little help against the darkspawn or Blight over the years and that was the Wardens' priority.

Just before they left, Attryne called over to me. “Anders, I suspect I will have a mission for you by late summer. I should find out in a couple of months or so, so check at those bases.”

“I will.” I worried about what she had in mind even as they left.

“Well, now,” Sigrun said, rubbing her hands together. “Let's take out our 'new Warden,' with Anders in his new armor, over to the Proving sponsors and veterans. They won't possibly think Hawke is the new Warden, and we won't mention it. If we play it right, we can take more profit that the Warden missed out on for her Proving.”

We must have looked like exotic dancers from Rivain from the silence as we moved towards the far end of the Proving hall. It had been a very long time since I saw this many dwarves looking at me appraisingly; actually they never had before. Most of my life I had been evaluated, but it was more often because I was feared, not for wagering. Still as Hawke and I followed Sigrun, I made an effort to look nervous and in awe at the high clan dwarves.

It wasn't completely a pose, as it would be different than fighting Carta or mercenaries above. The ceiling was much lower than the grand central cavern that made up much of Orzammar, and the statues seemed much more massive as they filled the entire height of the room. 

Chatter swirled around us and I heard interest in their voices and 'Wardens' mentioned in every conversation. A few recognized Hawke by name from last time, if they didn't know her title. They were more interested in what my inclusion meant. Further in, I overheard the first identification as a Gray Warden mage.

Hawke was playing along, with a smug smile daring the watching dwarves to say something as she caressed a dagger on her belt.

Sigrun stopped in front of a dwarf with the more traditional dwarven fashion than the look I'd gotten used to with Varric and Sigrun.

“Varick, you shriveled nug! Any upcoming Provings to show to my friends here. Gotta get the new Warden familiar with Orzammar, too,” Sigrun caroled.

Hawke met my eyes, and I could see she also wanted to laugh, as this dwarf was as far from our paragon as I thought he could be.

His frown came in only only a second after her greeting, “Warden... Wardens. Warden Sigrun, you do know that I am to be addressed by my title. These Provings are for dwarves.”

Undeterred, Sigrun nodded and agreed. “Proving Master, you also know Wardens are granted permission, to prove their worth to the thaig. This Warden here, with his first uniform, could use the practice against groups of Orzammar dwarves. He's faced the casteless above...” Sigrun said as if that was a disease.

That was unexpected, as she never seemed to think less of casteless. Then I saw how those around us gave an approving mutter that rippled out at her words.

“King Bhelen has granted them rights, and some don't care about tradition, especially in the Merchant clans. But the woman...” the Proving Master almost sputtered.

“She fought here before, Varick. That objection is played out now. You know it'll make for a good match and you used to love those before Zag... before the last Proving Master was cast into the Deep Roads. Your fighters around here don't get out into real fights often enough, not like these humans always do. Are dwarva in Orzammar so soft now? I'll match these these two against any fair match! Unless Orzammar can't provide those anymore because the rock has thinned out of the blood in this nug-infested pock-hole?”

Even I knew how inflammatory that was, and heard some growls from the watching nobles and gamblers. The Proving Master had a smile in his eyes when several of the better dressed insisted on letting Hawke and I in, Warden or not.

Sigrun and he began some kind of arcane negotiations about shares and fees. Sigrun only paused to wave us away with a cheery, “Don't bet your horse on any game.”

I saw the others starting to mill around us, not quite approaching us but subtly blocking the others from doing so either. Finally, three of them, not quite at the same time but close enough, introduced themselves to us. Staying quiet was hard enough, as they thought I was a stripling since I was new here. Roshen seemed the most experienced, though Grarak and Mahark Hirriman were also trying to find out what kind and how many darkspawn I'd fought. Their questions and rude propositions to Hawke got annoying, so I started simpering and clinging to her like a frightened fool at the thought of ogres and emissaries. 

Hawke's eyes widened when I started, and she looked up at the dark ceiling for a moment; I could feel the tremors that she was suppressing laughter. 

_**Why are you showing yourself like this? Duels should be honorable.** _

_These aren't duels. Justice, Sigrun as much as told us that a degree of deception and trickery is normal. The fights are supposed to be honest, but we shouldn't show our cards in a Diamondback game either. She just didn't say Hawke is a Warden this time._

_**You are not a new warden, you are senior to her.** _

_Only by weeks and Sigrun didn't try to leave like I did._ That gave me a breath of sadness, I'd missed some of the Wardens more than I'd allowed myself to remember.

_**This is not a fair competition, if they think Hawke is not a Warden. They respect them.** _

_They will have secrets, too. We can hope their secrets aren't enough to harm us._

_**I cannot like this deception like this, only for money and pride.** _

_Almost all money, Justice. Some good we want to do requires it. A well placed bribe can do more than a spell._

I could feel that he still disapproved. _What if you talk to Sigrun later, and she can explain dwarven custom better?_

He was silent again and he was even less pleased when dwarves spoke at us all at once, with what seemed like more conversations than there were dwarves. Grarak crudely propositioned the both of us, which turned Justice's ire outward again. Roshen liked that we wouldn't be making trouble like casteless dwarves by demanding adoption if we won; the old and greatly admired Proving Master encouraged them in thinking that for 'better' Provings. Mahark seemed a decent sort, but the others acted like he was a blood mage for some reason I couldn't see. Others spoke too, but they made less impression.

After that, few actually approached us. I saw two dwarven females in armor, expensive armor, who watched us appraisingly. Maybe another score of dwarven warriors were observing each other and then us. Some nobles and their guards approached and greeted Hawke, even trying to learn more about my magic. I obliged by summoning small balls of fire into my hand, an apprentice's trick.

Other dwarves weren't participants and wore duller and more worn clothing. A few stepped forward to threaten us, as humans, as weak and 'unable to stand like the Stone.' We couldn't possibly face Orzammar's might.

That bluster only made Hawke smirk more.

Maybe Hawke saw that I was getting irritated at their threats, but she led me away after a quick call to Sigrun that we were leaving.

Whispering with a nasty edge followed us out, but I didn't care. That didn't bother me compared to the usual hate above ground.

Over the next week Hawke got more used to the increased appetites.

Attryne hadn't known much before mine, and the press of the Blight and First meant I'd had little time to adjust at first. There weren't that many to dally with at the Vigil or amusement while we were chasing after the Architect either, as most feared me as a mage more than the Warden attraction helped. So I'd had fewer bedmates than I'd expected. That was probably good practice for my first years with Justice. 

Suddenly I understood more of Attryne's refusal to flirt with me then, even as she had an antagonistic relationship at first with the other nobleman, Nathaniel. She'd shared nightmares with Alistair, but if she'd been any warmer to me, I'd have thought she wanted sex. I thought I needed that connection. I'd admired her then and kept trying for more. I wasn't used to comfort yet. 

One night, Dera woke me with a strangled whine. As I woke, I could feel that she was rigid with fear and the noises she made hurt my ears to hear. As I watched, she curled up as if to hide.

Carefully, I rubbed her shoulder, hoping to wake her gently, but she shoved me away, slashing her hand as if she was armed. Her shriek rose through her sinuses as I rolled to the floor. Paws rose and looked at us, unsure of what was happening, and Ser Mew looked up from his place on a shelf.

Worried now that Hawke might grab some hidden dagger if I tried again, I shouted, “Hawke! Wake up!” After a few seconds, I called again and slid a hand into hers. “Love!”

Still tense, Hawke gripped my palm almost to the point of pain, her attention in the opposite direction.

With a little effort, I pulled her hand toward me, drawing the back of her hand to my lips and against my face. Something sank in through the nightmare and her next breath was a puff of surprise in the dimness.

I could feel even her hand relax and I returned to the bed alongside her, slipping an arm around her.

Even if Dera had woken and wasn't fear-struck, her breathing was still too fast. I held her close, murmuring until we were both calm.

She finally spoke. “I can't say that nightmare was easy to escape.”

“You get used to them, love, after you adjust. Those senior to me once said they are much worse during a Blight.” I wasn't as experienced as other Wardens there. “You can tell me.”

She thought about it for a moment or three and finally said, “There were so many darkspawn, even those I'd never seen before. Some were bloated like a carcass but still alive with fleshy bits seeking to entangle like magic vines, and others were like living skeletons in parodies of the headdresses of a Chantry ceremony who spoke with persuasive voices. I couldn't refute their words, and that scared me.”

“Some spawn could and did speak intelligently. I hope their time has passed, but they can be killed like any other spawn. I've heard no hints that any of the greater Darkspawn escaped us. They are terrible, and I pray to never see a First again.” I held her, trying to put the Architect out of mind. “We are safe here. I will keep you safe as you sleep, love.”

Her smile a little weak, Dera brushed my cheek. “Thanks, Anders. Don't stay up too late.”

She fell asleep fairly quickly, breathing steadily in my arms, until I fell into sleep as well.

Dera comforted me after my nightmares returned in the winter. 

And now I comforted her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The chapter title is adapted from a quote by Herbert Spencer. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	7. Suitable Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Hawke prepare for a Proving: get armor, deal with Justice, meet the First Enchanter of the Circle, and discover how friendly some veterans of the Provings really are.

**Orzammar, The Grey Warden outpost**

**Anders:**

After a decade without dreams, good or bad, I was still trying to readjust. Nightmares I had, of darkspawn, of Templars, and of Hawke and the so many ways I could lose her. But unlike before I merged with Justice, demons did not trouble me in the Fade anymore. This inn was full up.

I'd once envied the Commander and the others who didn't have to fear their dreams. They woke terrified or in grief, but woke intact aside from being tired. It wasn't until Blackmarsh that I started to understand that they had fewer options when dreaming. Now with Hawke I was very aware. She woke too many mornings, somehow defeated and refused to speak about it other than making poor jokes about running.

I couldn't help her in the Fade, I had to face Darkspawn nightmares again myself.

_At first I didn't remember seeing Justice in my dreams, but back in Hallowdingle he started to appear in his original glowing Fade armor from Blackmarsh. Soon it shifted to the black armor that a smirking Attryne had given him, but when he lifted the helm he now had my face instead of Kristof's._

_If he still had the hollow flesh and my face, I might have panicked._

_A few dreams, he silently interceded before demons had more than manifested, but even one that dripped power backed off. I didn't see him in every nightmare, but nothing tried to tempt me either._

_It took until Hawke's Joining for him to manifest in a dream without a demon threatening. He wore my armor, the black set we'd worked on in Kirkwall, but when I looked down, I was wearing Grey Warden armor._

_I wanted to spit, even if it was pointless here. “I'm a mage, and a healer.”_

_Justice spoke here, the echoes absorbed by the Fade around us. **“You are also a warrior for the causes of mages and against the Blight.”**_

“ _Are we both here in the Fade?” I wondered. It had been so long since we could talk face to face as it were._

“ _ **Yes,”** Justice said in a quieter voice, a bit lighter than Kristof's. _

“ _Are you going to nag me about fighting again?”_

_Shaking his head. **“No, I overestimated your distraction by carnal things.”**_

“ _We have to have something to fight for. All the mages in Thedas don't have faces, like a mage child torn from her parents. I have to remember their faces and their families, torn apart for no reason. Even remember my mistakes like Ella.”_

“ _ **I have...”** he started to say._

“ _No, I'd been fine until I saw Alrik threatening her. His threats and conviction that he could do anything he wanted without being called on it was too much. Mages came to believe that they deserved prison and that Tranquility might even be desirable. I might have burned the Gallows right then if I could have. I thought Ella..._

“ _I wasn't thinking. Later I saw the letter she'd sent Hawke.” I should have seen that she had been scared and ignorant._

“ _ **When will you return to the fight?”** Justice asked after a very long moment of silence._

“ _Soon, and then we will need to learn which Circles didn't fall. Orlais will probably be the last and we will need many allies as the Chantry is its own empire like Tevinter.”_

“ _ **Yes...”** he agreed, as on these things we were more as one. Justice fell behind or faded away as we crossed the Fade. _

_The Black City floated on the horizon like a harvest moon, huge and looming low. I could almost believe a large ladder would be enough to reach it. I didn't believe the Chantry dogma about the first darkspawn, but the Black City was as fascinating a location and concept to be so universal. Was it covered in grime, was there still gold under the black only waiting for someone with a good scrub-brush to get there? I refused to believe the Maker gave so many of us curiosity and magic to want us to not use it. That's be like giving us lungs and expecting us to turn blue and die because breathing might offend someone._

_Or was the Black City only a concept, like the Tevinter robes I might wear in a nightmare? How could a concept be that dangerous? There was something there, but it eluded me, and I wished Hawke was here to discuss it with._

_In the way of dreams, she was beyond the next hill. I knew this was only a dream, but she was in a fine robe as she grinned and held her hand up to beckon me. That wasn't what caught my attention, but that Aldera was very pregnant and held that glow that so many ragged refugees in Darktown had managed to have despite their poverty. With that sight, I was filled with joy and a trace of bitterness because this wasn't really her._

_My dream dissolved back into sleep before I could even touch her._

At least I woke with Dera sleeping in my arms, a little less curvy than in my dream. Her smile as she woke was so much more solid and real than the Fade.

She'd been preoccupied, but I couldn't tell if it was because of her Joining or not. Maybe I was afraid to ask.

My new Warden armor was good, but my own had been enhanced many times over the years. Even when I scavenged some bits of my teal armor to finish the blacks, I hadn't wanted to lose my old enhancements. Some I'd found or made, and some Hawke had found for me. I wasn't stripping _my_ armor for this Warden set.

I wasn't that upset at the idea of leaving my 'warrior' disguise behind. My own robes and the new Warden ones would have to be enough.

Thank the Maker, Sigrun understood. She gave us directions for armorers who would make more favorable bargains with a Grey Warden. The one smith wasn't that interested in helping a human, but his armors had a style and I could feel enhancements deep in the metal.

He was rude but he was that good, so I handed my Warden armor over for their first addition. I was tempted to make changes in the style or detail, but had to remember this was to make me more anonymous.

The other armorers were good too, but they didn't seem as interested in working with a human. Or a mage, I wasn't sure which.

Coming out of a forge, one of the dusty dwarves, a woman with a large and blue facial tattoo, spoke to me and ignored Hawke. “You the new Warden, gonna be in a Proving soon?”

Expecting attempts at intimidation before then, I simply agreed. “Yes?”

“Thought so. You Wardens don't have the nicest digs, do you? You have to go out into that _weather_ to even lay your head down in that hall inside a warm bit like her... nice view, too.” she said almost absently while looking up at Hawke.

Hawke was not amused and stepped back behind me, her cheeks flaming.

The dwarven woman snickered, saying, “Oh, the bitch likes 'em men and tall? Doesn't matter they're no taller where it counts. Not in giving a girl any future. You do know his lot don't last that long? No promises, no marriage, no stake in any venture but _his shaft._ He only wants you to keep the cold of the Deeps away before he goes down deep.” Her voice slid down like her attention.

These words hit my fears too closely and I reached back blindly, to find Hawke's hand. I asked the female, “What was it you stopped us about?”

“Well, to have a future, a stake for when the Warden here disappears into the Deep Roads, you're going to need money. I happen to have a bright and shiny offer for you, duster. If you could be persuaded to be welcoming to friends of mine...” she said with a sly grin.

Hawke gripped my hand, but that didn't distract me from my growing annoyance...

_**Welcoming? What does this woman mean by that?** _

_I think you have the general idea, Justice. Though we should make sure._

Coughing, I managed to say, “I'm always a friendly fellow, ask anyone, but I'd need to know how friendly and who your special friend is. I'm not all that good at remembering faces, you see.”

She pointed up at the bridge to the Proving area, where a white haired dwarf waved back to her. “He's a veteran on many Provings, but he needs a little help recovering after his last loss,,,”

“That's were I come in, I suppose,” I asked with a grin, pulling Hawke forward. “I have expenses and the Wardens don't pay too well. I like to keep her smiles golden...”

Justice rumbled at my act.

This dwarven woman smiled even more broadly. “Of course we here in Orzammar admire the Wardens. This way you can relax in your second match, and save yourself for the darkspawn. This should even help your conquest here, console herself when you've moved on.” With that she pulled out and dangled a large pouch that clinked with the sounds of metal.

Holding my grin, I squeezed Hawke's hand. Justice objected, but...

As expected, Hawke took a step forward and slapped the bag out of the dwarf's hand, “Bullshit! Or maybe I should say nug-shit! You can't buy us.”

The dwarven woman looked at me, expecting my objection, but I only smiled and raised our gripped hands.

“Pole-lickers and 'spawn fuckers. That's fine, there'll be plenty of other Provings, but that duster Warden isn't here to protect a newcomer like you...” She whistled and more dwarves melted out of alcoves and doorways.

Hawke and I separated and went back to back to prepare. Paws growled between us as they spread out around. Dera took out the leader as I spun up my defenses. It didn't take us very long for the smarter ones to get away.

Hawke scooped up the coin pouch with a grin and tossed it to me before checking the other bodies. “Oh no, Warden. I need protection. We'd better go find Sigrun. Run! Run!”

I grabbed the pouch of coin, their attacking a Gray Warden over this was stupid. Sigrun would have killed them if we fell.

Merchants who'd ignored the fight, continued ignoring us as we left.

Improvements to my armor were going to be pricy, but I ordered them anyway with the money from the failed bribe. Now that I was being more open about my presence as a Warden, I decided to visit the shops inside Orzammar, as well as the Circle tunnel nearly across the market clearing from the Warden post. I'd heard that the merchants sold lyrium for almost nothing here.

I was still uneasy about any underground Circle, with very limited ways to escape. I brought Hawke with me, keeping hold of her hand.

The entrance had been assuring, it looked like an apprentice was going outside without a guard. She directed us inward. In the first chamber I saw a Templar... a Templar in full kit, and I gripped my staff, wanting to fight. When he looked up, I saw that his eyes were clouded from lyrium use.

“Warden.” He spoke calmly, and much more clearly than they usually could this far gone.

“I'd like to speak to the First Enchanter...” I gripped Hawke much too tightly for an instant.

“He is meeting with a representative from the Collective, can First Archivist see you?” he asked.

I looked at Hawke a little helplessly. I wasn't used to polite Templars, without at least an edge to their voices when they saw a mage.

“Yes,” Hawke agreed. “You are?”

His smile was so calm to almost seem Tranquil, making me feel a mix of fear and revulsion. “I am Ser Carroll.”

“Nice to meet you, I'm Ser Hawke,” she baldly said. “Where would we find the Archivist?”

Following his directions, I saw several more Templars and mages in rooms we passed through, but the Templars were doing other tasks, not standing over the mages or standing by doorways. When we knocked on the door and entered, I was surprised to see the Archivist was a female dwarf, a bit on the young side to be first anything.

She had a pile of tomes around her on the desk as I would expect, but her being a dwarf surprised me as well. She greeted us with a big smile. “Good day, Warden. I'm Dagna. Was there something you needed?”

As I was addressed, I should answer. All I could ask was, “A Circle, here?”

“This is the best place to study lyrium and its effects, on dwarves, humans and elves and their dreaming. I found it was much too expensive to study it elsewhere so I came back here. A few recently Harrowed decided to come here too, and then some lyrium addled volunteered and then...” She paused and looked embarrassed. “I suppose you aren't here to learn about our research are you? Though it is very interesting, we're trying to help some of the Templars recover from lyrium. I have exciting new data from the Marches about an example of catastrophic lyrium poisoning, but I haven't been able to get a sample of the artifacts or corpse as yet. There are some somewhat obscure tracts in the oldest codices, but I'd dismissed them when...” She paused again, looking a little flustered.

By this point I was smiling, as her enthusiasm was infectious. “No, we...I'm just here to make sure there aren't any wishing to become Wardens. Would it be possible to meet with the First Enchanter?”

“Yes, this is a much smaller tower. His connections help with relations.” She spoke with a fondness.

I looked at Hawke. “We can wait.”

“Well, if you don't mind waiting in the hall, I can take you to his office.”

An older woman with the slightly furtive look of another apostate left the office as we waited, and a light voice called out for us to enter. As we were the only ones there, we stood and brushed our clothing neat before entering.

The mage seemed much too young and I found my jaw dropping in shock. He had a neat beard and dressed more like a noble, than a mage in robes.

He looked irritated at my surprise. “Yes, yes. I am fully trained and indeed I have passed my Harrowing. And yet, I am First Enchanter here. You can call me Conn, Warden. I would like to officially request the Wardens cease sending representatives as biased in the future.”

“No, I wasn't exactly sent, I just wanted to see a Circle I'd never heard of,” I told the boy. _When had this started? And why have I been unknowing?_

_**Because we were busy in Kirkwall, and fleeing since.** _

I should have realized Justice would be monitoring the Templars here closely.

“A new Warden and mage? Have you had much training? We don't have many instructors here, but I want to be the safest place to learn in Thedas,” he said with some pride.

It felt like forever since I had been young and ambitious like this.

No, my ambitions at his age were much less useful. He looked only a little younger than Hawke when I met her, and I had to look at them both. Justice rumbled approval at his determination.

But he still had Templars... “What about your Templars here? You have to know how often they fall to the various demon influences when they're handed absolute power over mages? Do you know of the abuses in Kinloch and Kirkwall?”

Dera moved a little closer and ducked under my arm, the First Enchanter waved us to a bench in front of the desk, and I suddenly noticed how much plainer this room was than the rooms Irving and Orsino had had. There were some fine things, but no sullen age in the items displayed.

“Yes, Warden. I trained in Kinloch after the massacre during the Blight. I heard the whispered tales from other apprentices and saw the death lists later. Maker's blessing, it seemed the worst Templars and most militant mages who'd dabbled in blood magic all died then, before or after Uldred locked Irving up in the tower with him. Even with transfers of troublemakers from other Circles, it was years until we enough people to do more than rattle around. Her Majesty loosened some rules and ordered an internal court, and I could appeal to her...err, we could. The Templars weren't too bad, even according to the old farts.” The First flushed slightly at saying that, but refused to recant.

I could respect him a little, at least for that. I was probably as old as the ones that frustrated him.

Then he waggled a finger at me like any other First Enchanter had at some point, to my surprise. His voice was only closer to cracking with his youth, “All the Templars here are here for help with their lyrium addictions. The Archivist is an expert on lyrium and the Fade, and our experiments have already brought some back into sanity. They are under my orders while they recover, as the Commanders they'd served under wrote them off. They were required to have been responsible to get treated. We take only the best. Don't be rude to those who are fighting their own demons.”

I closed my eyes. I should be the last to do that, with my long battle against Vengeance. Meeting his eyes, I said, “I would not mock an earnest... patient like that. Thank you for explaining,” I said after Hawke nudged me.

And really, this didn't seem too bad, more like what I hoped for with no Chantry or even Tranquil I'd seen.

Happening behind my back.

I hoped this Circle succeeded and offered my hand, “This Warden hopes you prosper. I wish I could help, but I don't know where my duty will take me next.” Not exactly my Warden duty, but we'd serve this place best by avoiding it.

That truth hurt a little, but Hawke hugged me after we left the Circle.

After that we returned for another snack for Hawke, waiting for Sigrun to finish arrangements for this... job. We visited the Proving House again days later to let them see us, but a dwarf with a neat and trim beard hailed Sigrun as soon as we entered.

“Warden!” He tried in block her going further in. “If you need an extra hand, I'd be happy to hire on to fill in your team.”

I wasn't the only one of us looking at him in surprise.

“What are you doing here, Thali?” Sigrun wondered. “You lost fairly last time.”

Shaking his head, he said more quietly, “No, I'm not arguing that. Very few Grey Wardens are without honor. No one cares if you shave things a little, but they're solid Stone.”

“And?”

“You're going to need a fourth with the groups already forming for the later rounds... And I lost just about everything betting against you. I'm not slow to learn a lesson,” the warrior claimed with a smile.

It might have been some kind of secret dwarven mating ritual, as Sigrun softened and said, “We could use someone who won't fold.”

This was far more amusing and non-creepy than hearing Oghren trying to get a woman. Varric never got serious that I'd ever seen, but he hid that so very well. Sigrun was interested, and they negotiated on two levels.

But other dwarves were circling and eyeing Hawke with a few comments or leers we weren't supposed to hear. I was tired of pretending I was incompetent and uncaring of their interest.

To the void with playacting, and I stepped over to Hawke and pushed her into an alcove for some kisses. Sigrun interrupted us, and Hawke smacked my shoulder when we stopped, her face pink. Sigrun looked serious again.

This time more wanted to see us do something: spar, skin a bear, spit and debone darkspawn. Sigrun said no to all the requests. Some asked crudely for a show from Hawke and I. One tried to bribe Sigrun for one match, another planning to fight us did decapitations with his ax. A record holder at that, he'd fought in the Battle of Denerim. The only real difference between this and other blood sport I'd sometimes patched up, was that this time I was fighting.

Some more posturing, and the matches were settled, five matches the day after tomorrow. I was starting to get more interested; they were confused about me. And honestly it would be nice to let loose a little without worrying about Templars being a threat. There was no Chantry here, their only concern about me as a mage and Warden was if I would be an interesting opponent and worth betting for or against.

My interest was in seeing if I could get into the Shaperate that one bettor enthused about, the idea that dwarves even had a great library of some kind had never occurred to me. Oghren had been a bad influence on my ideas of what dwarves were like. Varric was the incorrect exception.

Once we left the Proving grounds I asked Sigrun, “What was this I overheard about a Shaperate? Can I see that?”

She seemed embarrassed but admitted, “Didn't think you'd be interested, Sparklefingers. There wouldn't be any new magic there.”

“New herbs, new history untainted by the Chantry's lies, even new stories about darkspawn... why wouldn't I be interested?” I said, waving a hand. “Do they let humans in?”

Hawke snickered at me. “We might get around that if you can be sneaky for a change.”

“No, it won't be a problem, the Commander added to the collection while she was here during the Blight. For most everything, Wardens are considered like an honored warrior clan that doesn't have their own halls; this despite all other humans are often banned entrance into Orzammar. I can take you there now...” Sigrun finished with a smirk.

The Shaperate reminded me of the Archives at the Circle, and I wondered if the young First Enchanter even had access here. Still when I saw the massive stone shelves reaching up much taller than any using them, I stopped inside the doorway to stare and Hawke had to pull me inside.

We spent hours there; well, the rest of the time it was open to the public that day. Sigrun left us once we'd been introduced, and I lost myself in herbals and studies no less useful for not relying on magic. This was probably where some on the books in the Warden outpost came from.

Hawke quickly found three books and was settled reading, I acquired sheets of something to record my notes on. One old book had only been a rumor referred to in Kinloch, it had been thought to be lost since the second Blight. Some parenthetical comments in margins said that some who'd studied this copy were mages. I wanted a full copy and worked feverishly.

What other things were hiding here, lost to the upper world?

It wasn't a long herbal, but I wanted it all copied before our match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: Chapter title adapted from a quote by Horace. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated._


	8. In War, Amgarrak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders must wait while Sigrun makes arrangements. Once the waiting is over, Anders faces his first Proving.

**Chapter 8: In war, Amgarrak**

**Orzammar, The Grey Warden outpost**

**Hawke:**

I was glad we didn't have to escort Sigrun to all her negotiations. I couldn't pretend I understood the nuances of the boasting and misdirection here. Worse, I didn't like standing around on display during the negotiations.

The dwarves, even with our previous Proving, weren't sure where to class me. I was non-merchant and non-Warden. No Wardens had mentioned my change. Sigrun was convincing or the betting was good. There Anders was with his very new set of enchanted Warden armor.

Here I was getting more irritated from this attention. What did they think we would do? Whip a genlock out of my pack, fillet it and serve it as a tainted snack?

The final few days as Sigrun finished negotiations left me tense, and I was glad to join Anders in the Shaperate stacks. He tried to keep himself occupied with research and ignore being underground.

I'd been very interested to read the dwarven opinions about recent surface events, and one slim volume had recent news about the Free Marches. There wasn't much more current than the Qun uprising and some trade notes, though it did record the passing of Vael's family with some comments about a slight Chantry power shift there.

I wondered if Sebastian knew of this or if it affected his plans. Drumming my fingers against the seat of the stone bench, I wondered if I could or should pass on their analysis of the Shaperate. I really couldn't see him as a wandering knight for long. Starkhaven was too close to his heart.

Nor was I quite sure how to warn him, but then I had an idea and I set the volume aside. If there were copies still being sold like Varric's books, I could buy one. Writing a message to go with it would be a fun exercise, playing with florid prose I stole from one of Varric's tales should be entertaining.

After thinking better of it, I wrote a neutral note on a plain sheet of paper, signing it as from Brana. I toyed with mentioning my conscription, but decided that wasn't staying very quiet as the Warden wanted.

Then I peeked at my mage. He was scribbling notes from some text and had both his journal and a tome in front of him. He didn't seem very aware of anything.

Remembering his manifesto, I felt a pang of fear. So many nights he scribbled his manifestos instead of sleeping. I moved to look over his shoulder. “What's that?”

Anders started and looked up at me, blinking. “Healing, it's an herbal that was thought long lost in the Circle. Identifying rare poisons and how to treat them. I think the names changed over the ages, but... the symptoms match one of the Crow poisons.” His eyes focused on me and he looked dismayed. “I'm sorry to worry you, love. Forgive an old healer?”

He was fine and I could smile again.

“Any poisons reasonably safe for me to make and use?” I hadn't had any good source for poisons for a while, and I never had the knack for making them myself.

He looked doubtful, but he ran through the same realizations before he said anything. “I don't know that much about it, Sigrun might.”

Satisfied that he wasn't obsessing again, I kissed his brow, but he turned to make it real before we returned to our reading, with me leaning against him on the bench.

Reading the other essays, it became clear that the writer and readers were not expected to be appreciative of the Chantry's opinion on much. Of course, the dwarves also had somewhat cordial relations with Tevinter by the age of the statues in Hightown and workmanship of the damn slaver statues that tried to kill us. They also built much of the Chantry's grandeur. I couldn't quite admire how they sailed from the favor of one group of abusers to another, selling to both sides.

Justice had too narrow a vision sometimes.

The next book about the Free Marches didn't help as it had to be one of Varric's; I put it aside after only a brief read. The Champion in that story made me sound like I was able to stop a dragon with a well placed oath.

I wished it had been that easy.

The only problem with reading in the Shaperate was that I couldn't take anything with me, and I wanted to. I visited some of the merchants before we returned to the Warden post, looking for something I could drop in a puddle without feeling guilty. There was a small stack of bright copies of one of Varric's books about the battle with the Arishok. My face got warm seeing the descriptions on the cover. The cover art made me look shorter and much more heavily... armored.

I didn't buy that one, but I did find the same volume as from the Shaperate that I wanted to send to Sebastian.

Anders chuckled at me, but bought another journal for his notes while I looked over some fine jewelry at the next table. They were nice, but I rubbed my earring, twin to the one Anders wore. More jewelry to wear just wasn't something for a fugitive to indulge in.

I stayed outside with Paws to explore the closed down human trade camp for a while. The fresh air and spring growth was a nice change from being underground. After a few minutes, we ran back inside and hauled Anders outside for the fresh air.

It was dark, but he relaxed as we tossed a branch for Paws for a while.

Inside after another hearty meal, I was almost feeling guilty; I'd been a warden for a while now, and I hadn't killed any darkspawn since my Joining. Nor had I replied to Bethany's letter that Sigrun had given me the day after my Joining. It had been carefully worded and sent without knowing if or when I would get it, so she couldn't really expect a quick reply.

But I had left this task undone for too many days, which also made me irritable with guilt.

I still didn't know what to say. Attryne had said we were not to volunteer news about my conscription, but I did not want to lie to my sister. She'd been so bitter about her Joining for so long, but I felt sure she would not like it whenever she learned.

Anders was reading a new leather-bound book while stretched out on our bed, when I finally decided that I had to write something, anything, to Bethany.

_**Dear Bethany,** _

_**We're fine, hope you are too. Some old friends of his encouraged our return here, but I don't know how long we'll stay. His partner has relaxed. The sacred Urn of Sacred Ashes exists, like those rumors said after the Blight. The shrine had some problems before we arrived. The Urn's very...** _

I crossed out my first several tries: ornate, scary, awe-inspiring, old, shiny, and finished with

_**looming for what looks like a really big goblet. I'm not sure what** _

I wanted to mention seeing Carver, but that was too hard to explain in a letter.

_**...more to say. One test nearly made me laugh, despite where we were.** _

_**We have some things we need to do here before choosing a new destination. I want to see if we can add Carver to the memorial if it's still there. Maybe I might order a new one if necessary.** _

_**He's a laugh when trying to deal with horses. He's only slightly better than he'd been with Paws.** _

I scratched my cheek with the pen still in hand, and couldn't think of anything else to say to her. I didn't want to end it there, but we'd never been the kind of sisters to gossip about how handsome the farmer boys were, not even when we worked for Athenril. I was usually planning what we had to do next, especially after Papa had died.

Anything I could add was almost meaningless. So I wrote the most neutral farewells I could, that I hoped to see her and that I wanted her to be careful.

Sigrun had assured me that my message could go with latest alerts and the Wardens' lyrium supply.

Looking my letter, I felt my face warm. We'd been close, once; I heard about Bethany's little crushes in Lothering and more serious fears when one potential beau had signed on into Chantry service before they'd done much more than flirt.

Now I didn't know what to say; I didn't know what her life had become, nor she mine. This was the first time I'd gotten a letter from her. Maybe I hoped a little that we'd have more in common if we were both Wardens; but I doubted it now. Was it the years that had passed or secrets that lay between us?

I didn't know.

My little sister that I'd loved and protected was gone forever and all we had were the polite exchanges drilled into us as children. I had more in common with my dead brother in the Gauntlet.

That made me smile, despite myself, because that was morbid. But it was true I missed him more right now. He'd wanted to become a Grey Warden.

Once I closed the envelope with a seal I'd found in the desk, I pretended to read again.

“Love?” Anders had long removed the outer parts of his Warden armor, and wore only his blue under-tunic. He was smirking as he came over to the desk. “Come join with me?”

“Didn't I do that several times already?” I asked with a small smile.

“Recruits need to be drilled into their Deep Roads, until their taint had been mastered...” He'd moved closer and knelt, until little separated us but our clothing.

Kissing him, I admitted, “I'm a slow learner sometimes.”

“I can be a very patient teacher, for pretty ladies,” he said, unlatching my belt and pulling my sash out, leaving the belt in place. Sliding his fingers under the straps, what normally itched, tingled with warmth instead.

I stuttered. “You need some new puns there, Isabela used those after Av... Av...”

He'd reached a sensitive area around an old scar and I couldn't help arching, all coherent thought fleeing. I pulled his face to mine, loosening his hair enough that a hair bead or two bounced off the floor.

No words came from my mage, but we made it to the bed, losing our clothing. At Paws' whuff, I saw that one of Anders' tosses landed on my once dozing mabari. Getting more alert again, I suspected it wasn't a total accident. We'd have to talk abou...

Now he was kissing that scar, and I wriggled. He looked up with gleaming eyes and a smile. Paws could wait.

_\-- x --_

The next day, Anders spent part of the early morning finishing his copying while I read about the fall of one of the old thaigs in florid prose. Only the evident age of the book prevented me from thinking it was one of Varric's, and I read it mostly as fiction. Yes, I'm sure dwarves lived in the named thaig before it fell, but I thought the other details were as open to negotiation as tales about me.

Anders was grinning as he read another book when Sigrun found us.

She grinned too. “There you are. There are boring ceremonies for the Stone's approval now that we have our deals, so we need to be there about now.”

Scrambling into our armor, we made it to the Proving grounds before anyone was too upset. A long speech about Ancestors and Stone didn't make much of an impression on me at least, aside from words about the ever-present darkspawn threat.

The Proving's five matches would be the next 'day,' and neither of us slept very well. Still, we were armed and ready when Sigrun led us in. Anders wasn't as confident in his new set of armor, and he insisted that I wear my Champion armor. Thali wouldn't be in the early matches, but Sigrun didn't expect any real problems.

Now that the Proving was about to begin, my tension dropped away and I found myself grinning, showing teeth but not in humor anymore. Anders grinned back.

The first Proving match was us against a dwarven lord named Volney. He had two of his own men and hired one of the hard eyed mercenaries I'd seen earlier. The axes and armor they wore looked more like the old statues than what I'd seen living dwarves wearing on the surface or here in Orzammar. He had venomous words for Sigrun before the match started. It sounded like she had beaten him several times before.

This time was no different.

None even got very close to Anders, as much of Volney's attention was for Sigrun. They charged me with those big axes that gleamed with jewels, but it was very clear that they had not chosen any runes to quicken their attacks.

I couldn't stop grinning as this was so much better than the endless waiting of the last few days. Anders smiled as well, holding his staff more like a spear in a looser stance than his usual stabbing down from his greater height at any who thought he'd be only using it like a quarterstaff. I couldn't watch enough to be sure which was fighting.

Sigrun had kept the lord and the hammer warrior busy for those first moments while I nipped behind the mercenary as Anders poked a small hole in him. The larger hilt of my Qun dagger was useful when I was willing to club him out of the Proving. The last house warrior attacked Sigrun, who rolled out of the way as Anders cast his first fire spell at the group around her.

Volney still charged after her, but the others slowed. I rushed one who was shaking off the fire and knocked him off his feet and into his boss.

Sigrun snickered at that and Volney roared, madder at her snicker than his dazed underling. Said warrior was out of the Proving next after I kicked his head while he was trying to stand again. Better a concussion than a slit throat.

Toying with the dwarven lord, Sigrun was nearly untouched, but the other one was frozen in place. Anders grinned and swung the pole end of his spear staff like a wallup hit and that dwarf slammed against hold of the disintegrating ice before becoming still.

I didn't think Sigrun needed any help. So I watched until she finished by nailing his knee and dropping him like a tree.

Sigrun nudged the helpless lord with her foot while Anders' eyes unfocussed as he checked on the dwarves. The mercenary was surprised to be healed.

The watching crowd had gone wild with some chanting Sigrun's name, which was fine with me.

We left the arena sands to wait in the nearby chamber for a few minutes, and I asked Sigrun, “Does he lose well? Is he going to be a problem when we move on?”

“No, Volney's a stubborn rock, proud of his clan honor. He really lives up to it even if he's not the brightest in other ways so I try to make sure he lives.” Her grin faded. “He prob'ly thinks I'm kind of an abomination, as a duster in the Grey Wardens, but he's the best of the old ways that are slowly changing under King Bhelen.”

“Oh, good,” Anders said a little too brightly. “I never can figure what parts underground count as dark alleys so I can avoid them. I know which tunnel leads to the Deep Roads, and I'd rather avoid that for another fifty years.”

I turned to look at him more closely. So far he seemed okay in these spacious central areas. Still I asked, “You're not feeling cramped in now, are you?” It wasn't quite the right word for how he got in small, dark places, but he understood.

With a faint smile he shook his head. “I love that dwarves make such airy places to live deep underground, though the lava is always a little hard to get used to. I sometimes want to bring something to cook. I think it was trying to rain in the market earlier, at least it doesn't rain darkspawn.”

Sigrun laughed, “It does rain sometimes, but heat from the lava flow makes it evaporate quick. Some fragile imports are kept dry in shops that are carved from the Stone instead of stalls.”

A gong outside the door announced that our second match was about to start.

This one was also four to our three, and wasn't all warriors; two used matching small axes that had an extra punch with each swing, compared to my daggers. This was also the team whose supporters tried to bribe and cripple us at best, so they weren't going to get much mercy from me. The plated warriors were deferred to by officials and the others as they were escorted to their starting places.

They thought they would get an easy victory or that we would be frightened after fighting their agents. It would not be that easy. Anders and I had fought rogues often and knew they could be much more immediately deadly. I knew their weaknesses as I knew my own.

The warriors could wait... Anders threw up his shield first as Sigrun yelled and plowed through half of them.

I took my first rogue down in three bloody strikes from the rear, laughing at his surprise as he tried to spin before his legs gave out from under him. Pushing some bloody hair strands off my nose, I slid to the side while checking for the biggest immediate threat.

The other had started attacking Anders before his shields got up, but he was rolling away from Anders' spell. Anders' smile was grim and spear ready; he struck into the guts of his opponent and ripped.

Sigrun must have hidden herself as the other two were rushing towards me, their weapons poised for mighty swings. I dropped a smoke grenade and moved aside enough that they stomped through the cloud where I'd been. I'd become stealthy and moved slowly behind the one as they looked for us.

 

Sigrun appeared and hamstrung him.

This left the last one, who threw down his weapons after a moment to realize the poor showing of the assassins outside was no coincidence. The audience booed him. He'd get to live, and I found it hard to care. They'd escalated this beyond a little bribery.

Again the crowd got loud as dwarven healers came out to check the wounded and dead. I heard individual voices crowing or cursing about their bets.

Our bets were all placed before Anders, the 'new' Warden, showed his skill. Now he'd gotten a few cheers himself as the novice in a Proving from winners of any side bets.

He looked smug and his eyes sparkled with relief as he hugged Sigrun. I got only a wink, but I had to admit she was cute.

I beat my spark of jealousy down.

When we entered the break chamber again, Anders swept me up in his arms, his intensity reminding me of our early days again. My head braced against his, he breathed, “I like this even less as a participant.”

I nodded, as I didn't want to admit that these were the easier bouts. Sigrun and I exchanged glances. This combat for others' amusement tasted more bitter this time around. “Fine, but we have to find some other way to earn money. We left behind too much of what we earned in and around Kirkwall.”

Sigrun sounded cynical when she said, “You could of course stay and help with a few runs into the Deep Roads. There's plenty of things left behind when the Ancestors fled the old thaigs.”

Anders frowned at that and checked for injuries. Then he held me close as we waited .

The third match was those five female dwarves, a rarity here. Two looked the more grizzled, and they had plainly been watching earlier matches and most disappeared immediately as did Sigrun.

I would not leave Anders to be their only target, so I moved very close to his back until they made their move. Anders prepared part of his defense until they appeared and I had a stun grenade hidden and ready in my fist.

It might have been only seconds while we waited, but it felt like much longer.

The wait ended when one brushed me even as she was moving to stab one of us, it didn't matter which. My stun dropped as I moved behind that first woman.

Anders' protective bubble should last long enough to take at least one down. Soon my opponent was out and another frozen, both rogues. I was about to attack the one fighting Sigrun when Anders shouted, “Hawke!”

Before I could react, that one hit bone, jolting my whole frame into the void. I was nearly paralyzed and shock loomed as the dwarven woman ripped the dagger out.

The pain hadn't really started yet, but I was still turning ever so slowly as I started to drop. One was moving towards him and I couldn't even warn him.

Anders shouted again though it sounded warped, and ice crystals made huge spikes all around me.

The last of the arcing droplets of blood landed on the crystals. It was almost pretty as it slid down the ice. I could hear a deeply voiced curse, as if he was on the edge of Justice appearing, but instead I felt a wave of healing rise like a tide as he called on his healing talent. spreading out like a warm wave.

My vision steadied. Anders cast another healing spell as I straightened up and finished my turn, speeding up with a probably blood-drenched grin.

“Much faster than some potion,” I said into my opponent's face as I stabbed a dagger into her.

She dropped as Sigrun got her in the back too, and the roar of the crowd finally reached my perceptions. We were the only ones standing.

Anders cast a single spell that affected the dwarven women, then closed to engulf me in a hug. “No more after this, Hawke.” An undercurrent to his grin said how seriously he meant it.

“These last matches will be worse, they were last time,” I agreed. I had no more words for the moment so I simply kissed him.

Not that Anders ever complained about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated._


	9. In war, Amgarrak, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Proving proves to be harder when expected when one team finds a reckless bloodmage.

**Orzammar, Proving Grounds**

**Anders:**

Some of the crowd noise was now whistling at us, and Hawke was getting uncomfortable at that. Or I hoped she understood how much I was growing to hate this.

This wasn't fighting for defense or even a cause, but for pride and maybe some vengeance. That explained why Justice had been disapproving even if he had been quiet. Greed, a flavor of lust was the least dangerous reason and had been easy enough to fall in with. 

It was a good thing that demons could not tempt dwarves directly in their dreams, because Orzammar would have been a banquet.

Holding her close, I thanked the Maker we'd made it through in good shape so far.

Sigrun pulled us back to the break room with a smug grin. “You humans, you really didn't have to make yourselves this obvious to the dusters up there and the other competitors. Good thing we have some help for the next match.”

Thali was waiting in the small chamber, polishing the bright metal bits of his shield. “It's 'bout time for you to get in here. That took a while.”

Sigrun was perfectly smug when she drawled, “A few bitches got in the way of our rendezvous. Hope you didn't have that date planned for tonight. They aren't quite in top condition.”

A chuckle greeted that and the warrior spit. “No, I've fought those dusters several times, they aren't the most friendly sort.”

Sigrun sobered. “They've been in Provings for over a decade, longer than I've been stationed here. I think they may have a backer, as they don't fight that often and they have the time to recover. But no one is talking. Doesn't matter now, as we beat them with only three.”

“The next bunch are nasty though,” Thali added. “Piotin ran through a lot of dusters over the years, not bothering to even bother to pay for enough healing potions. Pay's good, but death rate is too high for many to want to fight them anymore. He got whupped by the Warden-Kingmaker and doesn't try any out of arena games on his opponents; so he's better than some. In matches though...”

“I know, but his loud contempt in the Assembly has effectively blocked recruitment here. He won't fight me alone, and I won't die for Diamond district blockage. We train most Wardens from the west, even if few...” The dwarven commander looked more frustrated than cheerful.

“Any other advice for this round?” Hawke wondered.

“I'm sure he thinks he's got you figured out, but we'll see what the Ancestors think of that,” Thali said with a grim smile.

“Love...” I pulled Hawke back towards the alcove where water was waiting in a metal urn. 

She poured herself a large mug and started drinking thirstily while I watched. Her brown hair was matted from sweat and her subtle ink decorations weren't very visible under the grime. Her eyes were bright with the green of life though, and my heart skipped a beat as her drive to carry us through this began to shine again.

One of the newer Wardens, possibly banned from the match, was reading a book. I looked closer and realized that he was reading one of Varric's books, in as plain a cover as the one I had. 

I turned Hawke away, I didn't want her to pick up on that detail. I bruised easily. 

No, not really, though I was sure she'd burn it to ashes in the nearest lava before I could finish reading it. It was a popular book from what the merchant said. The other stack of them had a portrait of a champion, at least one looking more like what was expected here. While I paid, I was told confidentially that it resembled the king's late sister, who had died in the Deep Roads under suspicious circumstances. So far Hawke hadn't looked at my new book.

She finished drinking and gave me the mug, refilled with cool water with a slight flavor of stone.

A few minutes later the warning rang for the next match. 

We went out onto the Proving Grounds for the fourth match, and their group was also larger, this one built of axe warriors. The axes seemed taller than they were, which I thought funny, It wasn't that amusing when one used the broad butt of the haft to vault and land with his feet first on Hawke. She'd already taken one down, but I threw my shield on her. Two came for me and I sent them tumbling back.

When I next looked, Hawke had moved beside me, panting. She was hunched with the look of someone with broken ribs as she dropped a grenade where another fighter was yelling and was about to charge us.

Sigrun had just tripped another fighter and Thali attacked the poleax wielder. Another ice spell extended our breather. The one axeman swept both Hawke and I, but she moved behind to attack. I was preparing another ice spell when I was suddenly flying through the air.

When I landed, I couldn't move. I was facing the wall of the arena. I was blacking out as I tried for healing desperately and I heard Hawke screaming...

The damage was severe and my spine nearly separated into two. I tried to concentrate, but I could feel the Fade opening to me... 

_No! Not yet!_

_Hawke!_

_**Focus.** _

_Wha--?_

_**Focus.** _

_But I want to find out what it..._

_**Focus. I cannot... spirits cannot do creation magic alone. You must. No First Children can from what any have said. Focus, mage... Anders.** _

My hearing sharpened and I heard Hawke grunt. I drew on creation enough to surround us with healing energy and healed everyone a little. It wasn't enough for me to stand, but I heard a gurgle and another shout from Hawke.

It was driving me mad that I couldn't see what was happening. Thali was fighting, too. I heard the sound of blades hitting his shield and he grunted from the impacts.

Torn between listening for Hawke and praying I wasn't about to hear her die, I gathered the will to try to finish healing myself so I could help. Another death gurgle. Panting breaths and a spray of sand hit me, before a pinched voice said fearfully, “Anders?”

I could only pant shallowly. “Don't turn me over, love. Sand's in wound...”

Then came a sob I could barely hear over the crowd suddenly. Hawke called, “Water and a clean towel. Will that do?”

“Thank you, Hawke.”

A stranger's voice said, “We should move the body, and get on to the next match...” A startled gasp and a chuckle from Thali came before the voice continued a bit breathlessly. “Of course we will allow the honored Warden a moment... er, time to recover.”

“Right,” came from Hawke dryly as they worked carefully on me.

“I've got what you need, Sparklefingers. The sand is rinsed out, can we lay you flat now? Your back looks a little twisted right now.” There was no humor in Sigrun's voice.

“Yes,” I said, feeling a little lightheaded as I was carefully rolled over and out of the twist. Then I was leering up at Hawke. "That armor is very becoming on you. If I was on you, I'd be com..."

Dera looked like she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time when she interrupted me. “That line belongs at the Hanged Man, and in its honor I have something for you to drink.”

Carefully dribbling the restoring potion into my mouth, I felt much better and she propped me up. I finished healing myself, and Hawke half-supported me back to the break room. There I noticed the way she was hunched, and insisted that she get healed properly before I checked the dwarves as well.

Thali said, “Might be a good idea if you act a bit more injured when we exit. This last is a bigger group, and the nug-lickers will be counting on our exhaustion to be setting in.”

“You looked like a bloody ragdoll, Sparklefingers. We're allowed a few more minutes for repairing armor and we're going to milk that. And you are going to finish every drop of these potions too.” Sigrun's grin was getting cheerful again as she brought out a rack of vials.

“Leave the blood. Some houses are quick to forget how deep Wardens' veins go. You bunch are enough to tire me out.” Thali sounded a little disgruntled. “The game may be up about Hawke, too. The mob will be expecting for her to be slower and weaker now.”

That only made Hawke snicker. “The Qunari and Templars were both much longer battles, without a resting area.”

Sigrun got an almost demonic look on her face. “Maybe I should have issued you a set of armor, just for the last match...”

The dwarven warrior barked a laugh. “Do you think you could have kept those fittings secret within the merchants?”

“Maybe not,” this Warden Commander admitted regretfully.

I looked at Hawke and she shrugged at me. We made some repairs to our armor while Sigrun 'stalled' for a time. The enchantments should hold, even so.

More lyrium and exhaustion had been a problem when we fought our way to Merideth after fighting through the city and the Gallows. Hawke may not have completely liked the styling of the armor she'd been gifted with, but it was powerfully runed, far better than what she'd worn while we'd been traveling with Merrill last autumn.

The fifth match was called far more sooner than I really wanted. Maybe I was hoping the other group would lose their nerve, but they hadn't. So far our opponents were either more wary of Sigrun and Thali, or they thought Hawke and I were the weaker links.

Sigrun moved over to the door to the arena quickly, but I pulled Hawke close. I couldn't be sure if her calm heartbeat was a good or bad thing before the match. I could feel that our armor in places was beginning to stiffen as the blood dried, but we followed the dwarves out onto the Proving grounds.

This last time we had a count of six opponents, which I had known, but I hadn't expect that one was a mage. 

She was an unfriendly looking fellow apostate by her expensive Tevinter styled robes. They weren't actually made in Tevinter, that was clear once you'd seen some full Magisters like Darius, but they were made in other countries by the foolish. Once I'd been gifted a set of smuggled robes in Amaranthine, so the difference was obvious. The rest were all still dwarves, but the mage made it a whole new contest.

“Stone and Paragons,” Thali muttered. “Piotin fought in Denerim and is a cousin to King Bhelan, but I hadn't expected him to _hire_ an outsider for this. He hates to lose, and holds the record for beheadings with that axe; He loves it more than his fourth wife.”

“We fought Baizyl earlier in another group,” Sigrun added crossly.

When the Proving Master started the match with his list of warnings, the other group didn't even bother with threats as they spread out. We didn't spread out as much, as my spells worked better when we stayed closer together.

This group had much better knowledge of how to deal with a mage. I hoped I was the more experienced, but then again I had been caught every time. Where did all the apostates come from, and why didn't either Hawke or I hear of it? Magisters weren't that inconspicuous. It didn't look like she had ever been caught. _Was there a hidden city somewhere?_

The Proving Master moved back and out of the central space of the grounds before calling the beginning of the match. The dwarves came straight for me.

I didn't know if the other mage recognized or knew me. I didn't know her, but I did know her paralysis spell even if I managed to shake it off. My defenses went up as Hawke disappeared. 

Thali shouted and rattled his shield with his blade as did the one of our opponents. _Berserkers, blast!_ Oghren was the last I'd seen in combat, and now here were two. 

Sigrun appeared beside and tripped one of the warriors charging me, leaving only three for me to hold off. I dropped one of Hawke's tar grenades; magic these dwarves might resist, but tar slowed their physical attacks more than mine.

As my ice crystals exploded into an arc around me, Hawke appeared behind the mage with both daggers spraying blood around her.

But the enemy mage laughed and the blood swirled out around her like a whirlwind of bloody snowflakes. Hawke tumbled away from him like a child's ball.

We shouted as we jumped away from the tar slowed attackers. “Blood mage!” 

Hawke knew this, but we didn't know how quickly Sigrun or Thali would catch it. How often did a blood mage get into a Proving?

_How often did a spirit mage?_

Casting an ice spray at the warriors, they would still be frozen in place or have to plow through the ice for the moments it lasted. We howled as her next spell pounded Hawke like a wine press; she bled all over as she tried to stand at first.

_No! We had too many on us._

Thali roared a challenge, and two of my attackers turned to help against him, leaving me only one. I threw more ice at him, and for once, one of the dwarves froze inside the ice. 

That mage crushed my Hawke with force magic, spraying her blood in all directions. Hawke gathered herself and lurched away enough to drink a potion while some of her blood swirled through the air to flow toward the blood mage, who grinned with carmine teeth. 

I used a spell I was usually reluctant to use against living opponents, one that felt dark like blood magic, even if it didn't draw from any blood. A spell that made an enemy swell up like a rotting corpse in the heat of summer and then explode, infecting those around it. I hadn't liked the elf's comments after I'd used it, that the Magisters used the spell as a sick game with the lives of their slaves. The comparisons to blood magic were also disturbing as well, even if the worst thing for me was how ill Hawke was after. It was tricky to try to make sure it did not explode with any ally close enough to be at risk.

I used it here in the blood mage, because this was not a life and death match where Templars or darkspawn required the greatest force. Not on any fellow apostate for the entertainment of others. This only reconfirmed my distrust of blood mages as a group.

I used that dark spell on a darker mage, remembering the mage at the Rose who nearly caused Hawke to slice her own throat open. I could only hope this blood mage didn't have those magics that ripped the heart out of the victims, without any physical damage that validated the horror for the shaken victims. 

Hawke threw a grenade down and a smoky cloud billowed around her as I focused on healing to prevent her using our blood to make herself stronger. Spreading healing to our group prevented their being infected as well. 

As I shifted to send another healing wave out, my spell must have ended without killing her.

The blood mage looked angry this time at spoke at me. “No, no, no, little spirit, your pet wardens will lose like the little vermin they are.” Her skin was beginning to crack and show the corrupted energy of the Fade inside as the blood storm around her swirled up faster around her. 

Her aura hung over the arena like a storm about to break. She began another spell, but I had to reduce her effectiveness.

_**HE is pride and must be removed before he feasts from the blood of all the watchers too!** _

_No, focus yourself, void take it!_ I had to heal Hawke, as she seemed to hang in midair for endless seconds, about to be slammed down again.

My heart was forgetting how to beat.

_**NO! Hawke lives, but not for long if we do not attack. We cannot only react to the battle now.** _

Again I reached past his rage at the other mage, into the cramped places I once was at the Vigil and called a blizzard. The spell seemed endless, taking so much longer than another death cry I heard off to the side. The wind and cold filled more than just the arena floor, leaving only the abomination and the dwarven lord, both partly blinded by the storm.

Hawke landed and rolled to her feet, staggering forward. She pulled two fresh daggers as her others were gone. Blood steaming in the cold, she staggered forward and disappeared again as I sent a simple blast from my staff, waiting for a clear view as I did another healing.

The haze of blood swirled around the blood mage when the blizzard cleared, but Hawke stabbed her in a rapid sequence, finishing with the Qun one in her eye. The blood droplets fell safely to the ground, so she was dead.

From behind me I heard Sigrun and Thali exchange quips, that meant the lord must have been defeated. I wanted to say something clever, but I was distracted because I realized that I was less exhausted from the blizzard than the last time.

This time I was still on my feet and conscious, a vast improvement.

Hawke stiffened, and started to back away as I noticed the noise from the audience. Sigrun made a smart comment about our victory and the crowd roared, but...

“No! We're not done!” I shouted with Justice's surety.

The body of the mage rose into the air, with her neck hanging where one of Hawke's cuts had almost severed through the larynx and spine. The glow of the demon came out and transformed the corpse, the flesh melting in arcane fire. 

My stomach churned, as I'd never seen this initial transformation when an abomination died with my own eyes. 

Her flesh flowed like molten iron, taking a new shape. It wasn't the shape of a wild creature like Velanna had taken. It was a demon's concept of a Magister with a flood of Fade-energy from the death of the mage and all the power and skill of the living abomination.

It glowed with its fresh blast of Fade energy, make me fell horrified as well as feeling a trace of that energy. That Fade ebb made me feel more tired and shaken.

_Maker, this is what Dera feared when I died..._

_**I am not a demon!** _

_We can argue later!_ “Arcane Horror!” I called as I cast a fireball to burn up any blood still usable.

She started with a crushing cage of force on Hawke while I tried the same on her. Hers worked, and I dispelled her spell with Hawke already crouched small. 

Sigrun and Thali were shoved far back, enough that they tumbled over and through scattered weapons on the grounds.

The next spells I cast didn't affect her. They were often all or nothing which was why I preferred my elemental magics. Her next didn't affect us directly, as it pulled from the dying dwarves, and sucked their spirits loose along with that last bits of blood from the marrows of her once allies. I could feel their loosened spirits flee their new corpses. No chance at revival now.

My next spells burned and froze a little, but none of us were accomplishing much. Her defenses kept Hawke away for a time. Sigrun and Thali were moving in close to the creature as well, even if they merely waited for her energy to run out.

I wasn't quite as confident that would happen. If it did and her shield dropped, she could not duck three ways at once.

A shout from above disturbed my concentration, and I realized where she was casting only staff blasts... at the watchers. She either wanted more blood magic reserves or wanted to draw others into the match to use as pawns.

But when I looked around, the bloody dwarven corpses were already struggling to their feet.

I shouted a warning, even as she cast the bomb spell on Thali and began attacking him, focusing lightning spells and burning his very blood. Not every body was raised, but enough had been. The corpses were still warm from living, and now they fought with huge gashes that no longer bled. The dwarven lord had part of his skull shorn off so that we could see his brain... but he still fought on.

The lesser undead were attacking all of us, but I put protection on Thali and healed him. If he died, while the magic was rotting him from within, we all could die. The smell of rotting meat filled the pit of the Proving grounds, though Thali was still moving. 

Thali seemed a decent sort, not that the arcane horror could possibly care.

Hawke tried to kill the horror, between the demon attacking and healing herself with our blood. I'd blocked the spell animating on some of the dead warriors, but was running out of energy when Sigrun finished decapitating the horror.

Then it took so little time to put down the rest of the undead. They'd really been a distraction from the blood abomination. 

There was no roar from the balconies and levels above us, but we could sort out the Proving after I had Hawke in my arms again. My fingers tracing her face, she still had a trickle of blood in a thread coming out her nose; I had enough left to let a wisp of healing fix that.

Hawke threw her arms around my neck, and our kiss was part relief and part the metal tang of the blood over both of us.

Her grin was not diminished by the shouts of excited and angry dwarves. “Well, my mage, that is flashy way to finish a Proving. The last one was much quieter.”

Leaning down I told her, “Remember this is your last one, love.” 

I heard the shouting and swearing as I held Hawke, glad she was such a solid weight in my arms; the earthy tones of the foul language were long familiar to me from Oghren's special charm. One wanted to nullify the Proving result, but he was being scoffed by the others as we'd clearly disabled or killed them twice. It sounded like the debates and betting might take days to straighten out. Hawke was fine, and that was enough for me.

I looked up and saw Sigrun and Thali were embracing too, and I was happy for my old friend. I planned how I'd tease her as soon as I was done holding my rogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	10. In Victory, Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke finds that payout from a Proving and wagers are not that prompt. Killing time in a Warden outpost has a few unexpected risks, even among other Grey Wardens. But danger still finds them in the Warden outpost.

**Orzammar, Warden Outpost**

**Dera:**

It was hours until the Proving Grounds were cleared of both injured and spectators. I couldn't quite like the way the dwarves were enjoying watching the bleeding of the others from the front rows. Some had been burnt or frozen too, and I worried that Anders had done the last. 

Then again they could have left the grounds. Their exits were further away and well above the combat sands. Even by the end of the combat it seemed that half of the audience was still watching despite the danger. Some of the injured were bragging about their injuries, even as blood leaked through their expensive clothing.

I understood watching fighters; watching Carver and his friends practice sparring in Lothering was one of my few amusements after Father died. Sometimes I left the house to avoid Carver's complaints and Bethany's worried questions. I usually found cover close by in case there was a problem, but I just wanted quiet.

These fights weren't like sparring, though. And deaths were not just common, but expected and desired. Their expressions didn't carry bloodlust, the faces in the crowd screamed a cruel enjoyment of blood and brutal death even for the others standing next to them in the crowd. Bragging and mocking... if I was going to risk my life anymore it wouldn't be for bored people, but for _something real._

Even with the excited dwarves who gloated about winning or losing, the Proving Master and his people eventually escorted those not injured out of the grounds. That left almost a score still injured, not counting us.

But they were much worse off than we were. Anders was tired, but eked out enough healing from a potion to stabilize the bystanders as soon as we got him through the passage up to the seats. Soon healers from the Shaperate had the lightly wounded sent home, and the more severely hurt ready to be taken away. 

One spoke to the Wardens in our group respectfully. “Do you need further assistance?” 

Sigrun looked thoughtful as she watched over these events. “We'd appreciate some extra lyrium for our healer. Shouldn't be one of the victors' job to pull these idiots' nuts out of the lava.”

The other dwarf nodded. I hadn't said anything because I was mostly supporting Anders' weight. He was pale and swaying, but the promise of lyrium kept him intent on the conversation.

I couldn't be sure if it was Anders or Justice who was more interested. Then I realized that they hadn't overindulged in lyrium since we got back. Justice hadn't been threatening at all since the Ashes. He'd been quiet, aside from when he spoke to the Warden. Still, my mage was a heavy weight and I was tired too.

“Warden?” I asked him, nudging him along his side as I supported him. “Maybe I need to get you to rest, hmm?”

He sighed. “I am tired, at that, love.” 

When I looked at Sigrun and she nodded and waved us off. By the time we reached our quarters, Anders was more asleep than awake when a worried Paws knocked us over.

* * *

There were many objections to us being declared the winners of that Proving, for what seemed like forever. None sounded very plausible to me, but they were enough to slow it more than our last match with 'one' Warden. At the end, what finally tipped the scales was that if we lost, there would have been no one living to drink with. Sigrun said something about the deshyrs not liking the necromancy either. The storms of electricity and snow seemed to have fascinated some of the dwarves. Almost all had lived their entire lives underground and never yet faced an arcane horror, for all the genlocks, emissaries, and hurlocks they more often fought.

But Wardens, and Warden mages became very popular in Orzammar; warrior clan and smiths alike, despite there being only one mage. During most of the parties, I was just amused to be overlooked as the attention was on Sigrun, Anders, and even Thali, as a long veteran of Provings.

I enjoyed hearing more of what the others had done during the Proving, though some of it was boasting. Some of the drinks were very good stuff, imported from Nevarre and Tevinter of all places, making this a much bigger party than anything after the Qun.

A trio of the female dwarves in fine clothing giggled when they stumbled over to where Paws and I were watching most of the room sing a drinking song. Tomorrow I'd have to ask Anders where he'd learned such a long and difficult song to sing in tune. 

“You should really dress nicer if you want to catch someone from that kalna, hunter.” She spoke in that snide way that someone very drunk or very mean could, while the other two failed to stifle their snickers.

“I left my nice dress on the surface.” I barely managed to stop myself from suggesting she run up and get it for me. Paws' head snapped up and I rubbed his ears for a moment.

“He is pretty for a deshyr. I think that armor makes him look even taller.” This dwarf was sighing.

I couldn't argue about Anders' looks and smiled too.

The first dwarven woman, straightened and spoke in a determined voice. “He's got pretty vambraces, that's clear enough.”

“So what?” The last one said in a slurred and grumpy voice. “None of the younger deshyrs have hired any new hunters for years. At least those in the Assembly, or their elders are.”

“That duster is a deshyr now! And you can just bet that warrior will hunt her and get out of Dust Town.” The first female was swigging from some flask and glared at the rest of us in this alcove.

Peering over at my mage while they spoke, he was showing off and playing with little bits of fire and ice. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a flash of blue in his eyes before he drank some more and pretended to direct the next song.

It still seemed new to me was that Anders could drink more. Not that he really got drunk that often, but it was a surprise when the Wardens threw us their own party and he was totally gone. He seemed happy, and I had trouble getting him back to our room when I was tipsy too. 

He was a very affectionate drunk, so I wasn't expecting much from him tonight. He'd missed this for so many years so I didn't begrudge him for a little while, though I was just as happy not to guide him to the smelly privvies so he could start over.

Not that I planned to get any worse than I was now, and Paws was plainly guarding tomight. He'd been a bit angry when we'd returned to the outpost injured. Nothing could hover like a worried mabari.

With another look into the festive crowd, the second asked me, “Do you know diamondback?”

Well now, this might be more fun, and I always wondered how much Varric's boasting was a racial talent and how much was him. “Somewhat, but my mabari is better than the pretty Warden.”

They disparaged their skills with as much sincerity as I was, so we called for some fresh cards from the bar; I did insist on modest betting limits. I wasn't about to blow much of any Proving profits, no matter how much I felt for duster women. We played for a while and gained some watchers. A youngster volunteered to move the cards for Paws, and there was some disbelief that I wasn't guiding his play. After a couple hands where I didn't play or even move and he did well our audience laughed at the losers. The first one threw in her cards and stalked away even as the piles of coins were moved over in front of Paws.

Paws' assistant was quite excited to be the center of attention, and another few players took their turns. I didn't clean up, and neither did Paws, but we didn't lose either. Eventually the air seemed to sound hollow and I realized that most had left the party. I thought Anders had gone to the privy, but he didn't come back. 

I hurriedly bowed out of the game, and despite complaints about Paws leaving, I scooped our coins away. He was alert, and I brought out one of my more wicked looking blades. I really did not want to visit the privy here, their ale was not anything I wanted to smell before or after in close quarters.

When I started for the privy, Paws made a noise and stepped towards the door. Thanking the Maker, I wanted to get back to the outpost too. I hurried, and found at the Orzammar gate I was only a little behind Anders. The outpost entrance had a bleary eyed Ednund snickering at whatever he was reading.

“Anders been here long?” I asked, wondering what the leather bound tome contained.

When he snapped his book closed, he snorted with laughter still in his voice. “No, not long. He went through... 5..4..3..2..”

“Andraste's rusty frypan!” Anders' voice echoed down the silent hall, in almost a howl.

That was followed by a shriek which echoed as the screamer was coming this way.

Ednund was laughing so hard he fell off his chair and a couple of doors opened and shut again with grumbling. The female dwarf I'd been gambling with earlier came running out with her fine clothing in her arms.

I really couldn't help it. I laughed too.

When she saw me, with my blade more visible than it was earlier, she squawked and a cloud of ale fumes caught up with her.

“I guess your dress didn't help all that much, did it?” Really, I wasn't trying to be scary, but she was unnerved and ran out past me. I looked at Ednund, and while I was technically junior to him, I didn't care that much. “You do know that he's been a Warden longer than Sigrun?”

“So? It was funny and it's not my job to protect his virtue. I made sure to check her for weapons. And the Commander's the one that told us all about the thaig with all the broodmothers, and his exploits at the Vigil.”

My smile had faded at some point before he finished. “Don't let strangers in again for us unless we ask. He's been on a hair trigger for half your life, and she could have been the King's daughter for all you knew.”

_Had I ever been this young?_

I hurried to our room and found Anders cursing as he remade the bed with new sheets. “Next time come and play cards.”

His eyes bleary, he protested, “I didn't do it.”

I helped him finish. “I know. She and her friends were talking about you Wardens, but I kind of thought the Surface and being a human would prevent that.”

Anders relaxed a little. “Her expectations were a lot more than I wanted to deal with right now with all I drank tonight. She had some idea that I would raise her prestige.”

I was grinning again. “Yes, that's pretty standard for any nobility. She would get that as soon as she got preg...” I could feel my face drain, but I forced myself to finish. “...pregnant. That wouldn't work if she tried to seduce Sigrun.”

He moved closer and reached out to hold me close before a hesitant kiss. “I just wanted to get to bed and dream of my love until she got back. Justice has been very firm in reminding me that I had too much.”

“Maybe you should take Paws with you to defend your honor?” I wondered.

“Magic does well too, love.” Anders moved over to the bed and began to remove his armor and then helped with the rest of mine.

Over the next few days the hunter kept well away from us, and we were a little more careful about drinking.

The Warden should be happy with us, as some dwarves had decided that fighting demons and darkspawn was much more of a hearty challenge than just the perpetual battle against darkspawn. They weren't as happy at the idea of travel above ground, but Sigrun already knew how to deal with that. She though maybe a half-dozen might end up undergoing the Joining.

I wasn't sure how serious Thali was about Sigrun, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Anders and I certainly hadn't been any example of a speedy romance. 

Within only a couple of weeks after the decision and parties, our winnings were trickling in but not the purse. Sigrun was taken to cursing even as more experienced Wardens tested the the potential recruits. 

She had a look in her eyes when she dragged Anders off to resupply more of his equipment now that he looked like a Warden. A new tarp, blankets, camp gear, all piled in our arms like it was Satinalia, much of it with Warden markings. I demurred from some as it was pointless as only some needed replacement. Anders started to look frantic as the bulk began to weigh on him, until I later whispered I'd return any extra later that night. Before I told him that, he looked so dismayed when he found himself holding a new iron stewpot.

Going outside with Paws for hours wasn't enough, I needed wind and sunshine. I'd decided to practice with a bow outside. I wasn't anything close to Sebastian's speed and accuracy, but I was out of practice, not untrained. The last time I'd spent much time on this was before Ostagar. Anders found me outside one afternoon, a few bow shots beyond the human trade area. I felt younger and afraid, about to fight the 'spawn again at the end of the world.

“Love? Is something wrong?” Anders asked from a step or so behind.

Releasing the arrow, it was reasonably close to the mark, but nothing to brag about. I lowered my bow. The silence went on as I tried to figure out what to say. “Yes, no. I wish I knew, but it isn't being here or even those who seek to kill us.”

Anders stepped up next to me, and slid his arms around my waist and held me close. We just stood there as the light faded quickly. Being held was doing more than the archery.

“I guess I'm remembering Ostagar and training there with Carver. I was so scared that the Darkspawn would kill Bethany and Mother. More and larger groups of spawn were sighted, and I had no idea how to keep them safe when the king called for volunteers. As we trained, me with bow,” I gestured with mine, “I felt so guilty and worried they'd be attacked while I was away.”

“You still do, don't you?” He asked quietly.

“Papa was a mage, an escaped apostate, probably from Kirkwall at that. He kept us all safe and together for so many years. I couldn't even manage five years, even if I was later called Champion. My only family left, she...” I couldn't say it. I sighed. “I don't make many vows or promises, too many decades lying. But it's broken...” _I promise, Papa._

“Your promise could not prevent the Darkspawn coming, love.”

“I couldn't keep us together. Mother never really recovered from Carver and then Bethany. Sometimes I didn't see her for weeks in the same house. She'd occasionally try to get me married off, but she... it was clear she never really forgave me for living through my failures.” Holding my bow seemed pointless and I let it fall to the ground.

Anders held me tightly, almost to pain. After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, “Some people never recover from their losses, love. That doesn't mean they're right. One Warden I knew was always a little unhinged when her sister wanted to stay among the darkspawn. Others blame any surviving Wardens when they've lost someone.

“I feared that when you lost Bethany. Very few keep in touch with their loved ones.” He turned me to face him. “Didn't you see Carver in the Gauntlet?”

That could make me smile a little for a moment. “Yes, and I think we're okay. But I should have left Lothering before Ostagar, before the gates were closed.”

Caressing the side of my face, Anders said firmly, “I doubt the wise and canny man I've heard in your stories would blame you, Dera. The Blight is worse than the Chantry, as much as it pains me to admit it.”

His wryness made me snicker and I leaned against him.

I wished I felt this in my gut.

When natural light was gone, we went back inside for another quiet night. 

I wasn't quite as amused then Sigrun dragged me into one of the sparring sessions as a potential recruit and set me on the opposite side of Anders. He knocked us down, but I took him with me and he got scolded for being distracted.

Still I was getting restless, we'd been here well over a month now. We did this for the money, as a tool to accomplish other things. We'd gotten much of the wager money and Sigrun was helping me with buying the smaller, valuable items to trade with in other cities, like carvings, gems and jewelry. I wondered if any were Varric's relatives, but I didn't ask. 

I got another message from Bethany, unexpected as it was to hear from her twice in only a short time. So I settled to read it one morning while Anders was plotting book-theft from the Shaperate. If our share of the Proving was high enough, maybe we could order a few copied. Carrying them would be the next problem.

_Aldera,_

_I didn't expect to hear ~~was glad that I heard~~ from you, Sister. I ~~was~~ worried when I heard nothing of you for months. Fears of Qun or Chantry locking you away were not the best company for my other nightmares. The Sacred Urn? Don't joke about holy things like that, Sister. I know you have little faith, but don't mock it like this! I found Father's marker and cleaned it away one trip through Ferelden, and visit it every few years. Another house was built on the stonework that survived the Blight, and the family there seems so happy and normal. They really didn't know any names from when we lived there. They were surprised to learn a Grey Warden had lived there before. Yes, we should add Carver to the memorial, he never really left Lothering._

_Have you been gambling, too? I'm worried about you. Gamlen must have started like that. Please tell me you haven't started some kind of foolish fighting to protect a Warden. Dealing with horses seems so minor a skill. Paws did well. How is he? I know he will pass, and I like to think he will go to the Maker for his loyalty. He is wiser and kinder than many people I have met._

_Yes, I have noticed that emissaries and ogres also vary considerably in their threat. When I hear fears about abominations, I remember how much more dangerous they become when they die, and worry. Perhaps it is a good thing that I do not expect to leave enough of a corpse when I die to make one of those._

_We are pursuing darkspawn who are appearing near Ansburg. Rumor has it that many of the lost thaigs might be close to the older surface settlements. I much prefer serving closer to Ferelden or Kirkwall. We got, actually, I got, attacked by some dwarves. They might have been looking for you, Sister, since they weren't sure who they were looking for. They only had our name. I haven't really made any enemies aside from darkspawn who aren't in any condition to be a threat anymore._

_I hope this reaches you before you move on, Sister. Take care._

Bethany's letter was unexpected, and the tone in it seemed off. Maybe it was from the dwarven attack. I wondered if Anders would find it funny that we were in Orzammar, but Bethany was attacked by dwarves.

Anders returned to our room with another herbal and pack of minerals for him to study. Sometimes he tried to explain how the potions and magic did their healing, but the concepts I could understand, even if I couldn't feel them work the way he did. Sitting beside me, Anders pulled me close.

“I got this from my sister earlier.” I handed him the message, my voice sounding a little flat even to me.

Reading it swiftly, Anders' laugh burst out. “Fighting, gambling, and bad jokes about Chantry dogma? No wonder I love you, Hawke. But yes, those are the kinds of things your family might worry over. The only thing she missed chiding you about was if you'd gone to any orgies. We need to have one, I think. Are you sure she's younger than you?”

I pointed back at the letter, and he read further. I knew when he reached the part that worried me, as his face lost its smile.

Dropping the letter, he looked at me bleakly. “I never thought that it would spill over on her, not in my worst imaginings.” Pulling me closer, he tucked my head against his chest, maybe so he didn't have to look me in the eyes.

“What I don't understand, is why would hunters be searching for me in that direction,” I asked while rubbing my cheek against him.

“They might have been hired by the Chantry. We have been to the Deep Roads, this is known if they want to capture us.” Anders sounded doubtful. “No, no one really wants to go to the Deep Roads, even dwarves. Many of them don't even like sunshine. Wardens must go, but every return to the surface is so damn good. But then the Chantry might just put a large bounty on us, and those dwarfs have no idea where to look.”

There was another possibility. “These might have been hired by Vael months ago, and heard a rumor of Bethany.”

I felt his chin dip from a nod, and he said, “True, I'm sure they learned their error quickly enough.”

He leaned us back and he explained the recipes he'd been studying. I was glad that he didn't mind if I fell asleep while he thought out loud. I simply enjoyed listening to him talk. 

Moments later, a knock at the door woke me from Anders' herbal lecture. The dwarf in a rich and formal suit had a message in a creamy parchment, imported, with a ribboned seal. “Message for Warden Anders.”

We looked at each other after the messenger left, and all I could comment was, “No return message and no assassin, that's promising.”

He broke the seal, and read the message quickly, handing it to me to read. It was a formal command for an audience with King Behlen. I wasn't sure if I had the hang of how they marked time underground, so we took it to find Sigrun.

She was sitting back in a visitor hall with Thali, and was surprised to see us. “You two look all grim suddenly.”

Anders handed her the message and she frowned when she read it, “Neither of us got one. He hasn't done anything about Wardens being here, other than granting us this new tunnel.” Frowning, she added, “Your audience is now and in armor by the phrasing.”

As we scrambled to finish donning the rest of our armor, Sigrun warned us, “The king is a canny one. I don't know how close he was to his cousin who died in the last match, but there were a few nasty rumors about how the wastrel prince somehow became king. Be careful what you might agree to.”

The doors clanged shut behind us and I wished that I dared to hold Anders' hand. The guards filed out as well and I wondered if the slits were full of archers as in some histories.

Anders looked at me for an instant,before he spoke towards the king. “Ser.”

I had to smile as that was the best honorific he'd offer, unearned.

The dwarf looked up, and his smile was wintery. “Champion of Kirkwall, Scourge of Kirkwall...” His tone was not welcoming, but more weighted with guile.

Bowing a little, I had little reason to deny it. I was wearing my armor. I wasn't sure I would have survived that last match without it. “Not of Kirkwall, your Majesty.”

Standing, he looked at us consideringly. “That doesn't change now, that's where it was. It's usually generations between Champions who are not winners of the Grand Tourney. The Qun are a juggernaut on the surface, but you won a scattered and weak counterattack against them.”

I looked at Anders and shrugged before asking, “What did you want to speak about, Ser?”

He ignored me and stated while looking at Anders, “Apostate and Grey Warden who healed the poorest dusters and yet destroyed a Chantry in a slaughter. Veteran of fighting talking spawn.”

Anders asked this time, “Is this about your cousin's death?”

“No, no,” the dwarven king said. “He loved his matches and died from a fight with a demon. If he could have challenged a demon to a Proving, he would have. He wanted an epic death, the idiot. His glory days were fighting in Denerim.

“You have been polite, for humans. But your Chantry would send a March against us, just to get at you. We might fight them off with them being spread thin of late, but that is still a risk I do not want to risk for two strangers.” He looked each of us in the eyes and asked, “Why are you here?”

Anders smiled, no smirked, and said, “Warden business. Some decided I needed some... retraining to be a good little Warden.”

“You have been here for weeks,” the ruler observed. “The Warden-Commander has moved on weeks ago, and you remain here?”

“I'm a slow learner, even the Shapers have noticed...” Anders almost said with a leer.

Glaring at my mage, I said, “We're planning to move on soon, Ser. We don't want to make trouble here.”

“You're the kind of humans who attract it. Attract dusters like that other mage, even if you look harmless. Finish your business and begone. I do not want my people to be the target of the next March as only overspill,” he said, waving us out.

Outside, passing more guards, I said to Anders, “I think we've been evicted.”

“I'm sure of it, though his pride says we don't have to hurry,” Anders said with a smirk.

Another few days, and even Sigrun was losing her patience with the delayed payout. We'd finally gotten the last payouts from the betting, but the Proving Master was refusing to disburse the official prize money because of 'repair costs.'

Finally it was again the time for Sigrun's next visit to the arse. This time she took us, and just for giggles, we strapped the great Champion sword on me. I might not be able to swing it more than once on a good day, but it was more intimidating than my usual daggers. Thali was on a paying job somewhere, so Anders and I would have to do.

Sigrun spoke to him, we humans loomed, and he finally took us to an office and counted out the money.

When we stepped outside, a loud thud came from right behind me, of bodies hitting ground. The causeway to the Proving grounds was so open, I hadn't expected anything.

Spinning, I was knocked back and away from Anders, the swing of another's great sword blocked by the one strapped on mine for display.

“Keep the Hawke alive, not the other two...” came from behind me.

I'd rolled with the blow and when I sprang up I saw that Anders was flat on the ground with three dwarves literally holding him down with their weight. The one was lifting his head by the hair.

There was no good reason to do that.

I shouted, and ran through them, knocking them off Anders. His head would thump down, but they were too far away to stab his neck now. Sigrun was engaging the swordsman as Anders scrambled to his feet with a cut on his cheek.

It didn't take long until the last attacker was mine. But in that pause I realized that his clothing was subtly wrong: the armor made on the Surface and it didn't even fit right. “Wait...”

“Fine,” Sigrun said, making sure the others were dead.

“Hawke,” Anders asked with his worry evident.

“Let's start this easy,” I snarled, hating myself. 

Yes, I lied. I lied a lot. Necessity long had me in a choke hold. I lied to officials who protected their killer sons from justice. I lied to Templars all my life. I lied to my friends and family, to protect them. I lied to strangers to keep us hidden. I even lied to Anders, telling him I was fine, even if I was sure he knew better.

But this was the fourth time I lied to a dead man and those lies were burnt into my soul, “Your group isn't from here in Orzammar, where are you from?”

“I don't have to talk to a fucking human,” he said, almost spitting as a grim Sigrun wrenched his arms as she tied him.

“Yes, you do.” I said, putting the edge of one of my favorite daggers against this throat, enough to almost cut. He didn't use the words that dwarves like Sigrun from thaigs did. “ **If** you want to live.”

His snort of contempt grated for someone who wanted to survive. “Ha, your type plays fair, like you're special, a Champion everyone should bow down to. You're like any other rich and powerful bugger, but now the bounty is worth our time. And you don't have all your gang now, so your type won't get your hands actually dirty, won't kill a helpless prisoner, with your known pet Orlesian knight and Chantry brother.”

Wiping sweat out of my eyes from the fight, I leaned closer. “Did you miss that I consort with apostates and kill Templars by the scores too? Companies of Qun and dead mages and Tevinters, dead in my wake? I look out for me, and you, fool, have caught my attention.” 

I shifted, leaning over him, despite the boulder of pain in my gut. Like that, I sliced his cheek and up to the side of his eye. It was a shallow cut, not enough to be fatal, but it bled nicely from his pounding heart.

His eye widened a little, seeing the blade that close, but he didn't move. His expression didn't change either.

I steeled myself from the rock in my stomach turning acid and forced a smile despite my dry lips when some of the blood sprayed. Baring my teeth into a fake smile, I laughed, “Now, maggot, where were you hired?”

He glared at me, not quite as mouthy with his own blood dripping.

I was glad Sigrun and Anders were not interfering, though I wished they didn't have to see this. His contempt dared me to harm him. Once, long ago, _She'd_ taught me that a threat undelivered on was a fatal weakness. I wasn't convincing him to talk, and if I'd had the faintest hope of the end of this, it guttered out.

With my other dagger, I stabbed him in the crotch. I didn't look to aim, holding eye contact with the dwarf, but it was that big blade I'd gotten from the Qun in trade.

He shrieked, like I supposed a little girl dwarf would.

“Where were you hired? I'll cut it off completely next so it can't be healed, and see if you can break glass with that little girl shriek,” I supposed I said, but it didn't sound like my voice.

I hated myself far more than I hated him. I was using and killing his hope, and the great cavern of Orzammar grew dark to me.

“Kirkwall...” came in a dry voice that cracked.

“And who do you work for?” Was this my voice, this sing-song of teasing request?

This time his answer was a panting gasp, but there was no longer a pause in his reply of, “Carta...”

I questioned him a bit longer, the names here, the names there, the travel here and gather extra hands here from native Carta... And worst, this was some kind of major project, not the relative head-butting we'd had against the Carta with Aveline. Not avoiding me this time, they were to bring me back alive, or failing that, Bethany.

This wasn't about Anders or revenge for the Chantry at all. 

The Carta thug didn't offer anything much more useful and...

I slit his throat, not moving back from the blood at all. This was what I was, a frozen husk, and I stood up again, looking at my hands shake. 

Anders pulled me to him fiercely, running his fingers over my hair.

That felt good, but I was vanishing like the funnel in the water as it drained. It was almost gone now, but he wanted something.

“I... hate that...” My voice was high and soft, when nothing else was, and I couldn't worry enough that Anders wouldn't hear me if I was this quiet. _Maker, I hate seeing their eyes._ I'd killed hundreds but was an empty vessel, only a drain.

Then I cramped and bent as I dropped to my knees, retching. It looked dark as blood, my own life force leaping out of me. Rejecting someone who once believed, who once wanted so desperately wanted only to protect her family. Someone who'd promised her father as he was dying... But now I felt like I was going to vanish into the Void.

As my retching became dry heaves I started hearing what Anders was saying. The words were tired and strained like he'd been speaking for a while and his words gentle, even to such a brutal killer, a torturer, a failure... I wanted to throw up more, but there was nothing left. 

My throat hurting and acid fresh to taste, I asked, “How can you even look at me? You're a healer and all I can do is bloody murder. I can't manage to do anything in any way good or creative. I can't even fucking have a baby, like the stupidest of bitches can. Nothing, nothing. Nothing to show and nothing I am. I failed him.”

“Dera, shh. You're not nothing, love...” he spoke kindly again, but it was only noise.

I heard, but I was deep in a black place only for destruction. Of course the Wardens wanted that, why waste a good murderer?

Lifted up unexpectedly, I realized that I was crying. I clung to Anders, babbling about nothing very coherent, mostly farewells. Nothing I'd dreamed of doing or desperately wanted to could happen now. I was only good at one thing, and that wasn't anything that healed or made the world better.

He carried me back to the warden outpost and tucked me in bed, sliding in beside me. 

_All I could hear was a different voice echoing through my memory, straining to speak just one more time._

_Papa, I'm sorry. I tried so hard._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	11. Parting the Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Hawke leave Orzammar, to return to sunny Kirkwall where the kidnapper came from.

**Orzammar, Grey Warden Outpost**

**Anders:**

I wasn't very good at this. It was one of the spells I had trouble casting after Justice and I merged, even though it was one the simplest I had used on vermin at Kinloch . I remembered studying so many spells there and mastering the basics between my escapes. Now I remembered studying them, but the feel and currents still felt alien. They were locked inside or maybe outside that space I shared with Justice.

The principles of a sleep spell were simple enough, usually mastered before our Harrowings. It was more like yanking energy from the Fade and helping the target into sleep and whatever little dreams they had. I remembered casting that magic and a little burst of pride that it worked, but I had no great talent for entropy the way Merrill did. I hadn't often missed it since all my magic changed. I wanted my healing magics and my ice spells the most. The other spells I'd once used against broodmothers weren't really needed in Darktown. 

Now I'd used it on Hawke twice, not an enemy. When I cast it on her, she fell into a sleep even with my novice bumbling.

Holding her still and sleeping form, I thanked the Maker that she'd stopped cutting herself. They weren't deep or directed. I couldn't be sure if she was fumbling through her pain and forgot she had the dagger, or this part of her was broken and lacked any of her skill. Either way, I carefully removed the dagger from her lax hands and put it away where it belonged.

Not wanting to wake Hawke, I looked around at the common room in the Warden outpost after I healed her. The few others were ignoring us, but Sigrun wasn't as far away, watching us.

“You need to find them. You should be safe here, but many exiled to the surface for ages joined the Carta. No one bothers to count rats in any surfacer kingdom, but there are a _lot_ of the dusters. The good thing for you is that they aren't usually ambitious. Find their boss, and your problem's over.” Sigrun wasn't ignorant of the surface anymore.

Carefully, I pulled Aldera against me and held her close, feeling her steady heartbeat as she slept.

We needed that information she got from the Carta thug. Bethany's letter took on a darker meaning now. That the Carta thought little about taking on Wardens and my Champion spoke volumes that their intentions weren't to pat the Hawkes on the head and give them cookies. The attacks on Bethany had been at least a week or two ago, so I hoped a third wouldn't come right away.

We had to take to the road and avoid attention. I might as well get used to my uniform and keep the little braids.

But Hawke... Aldera. This was worse than the last time she questioned someone, months ago while Vael's army had been circling us. She came back to the room, bloody, when staying out while I hid several times. I'd thought she'd run into thugs, but I should have asked. Her mood had been dark and violent for days after those nights.

I had to wonder now what she'd done, what she'd forced herself to do. I was sure she hadn't done anything to anyone innocent.

Pretty sure.

_I remembered her questioning of a Templar who attacked when we were out after dark in one of the villages along the lake. I'd disliked the need to question that Templar then. Vengeance wanted to kill him immediately, showing me flashes of how the body would look when we were finished. The pools of blood and carved flesh in those images made me ill. What had made me ashamed was that I wanted to allow that... to allow him to do that, like a tiny seed kernel inside the horror._

_I stepped back, because Vengeance had surged forward from my indecision. Even as he did, he showed me visions of exactly how I could gain the most from the Templar's death. It was like a rotting tree was overhead and about to crash on me, and drag me down into some primal muck. I hadn't noticed then how like Blackmarsh it had appeared, but that hadn't lessened my sudden call on creation magic, maybe just to remind myself about who I was. Vengeance quieter, my knees were wobbly with how shaky I felt from fighting off his blood-lust._

_While I had been distracted, Hawke and Merrill were questioning the Templar. Usually they shit their smalls at being captured by a mage. A little glowing, a little showy magic, and they talked about just about anything, praying loudly that their Maker would avenge them, that no demon could tempt them._

_I'd be disgusted by this point. Or maybe trying not to laugh._

_But this Templar was just addled enough by lyrium or his own stupidity that he was unafraid of Merrill's magic._

_Hawke stepped in, her face a cold mask. He broke sooner than the dwarf had just now. Hawke had been ill, but not like today._

Was this because the questioning had taken more, or had the Joining broken Hawke's will? Or worse yet, destroyed her hope?

Either way, I feared for her now.

While she slept, I washed the blood off. I wanted her to wake on her own, but I was so tempted to talk to her sooner. Reluctantly, I asked her mabari to guard her.

Sigrun was outside in the common area, waiting impatiently while sitting on the long bench for a table. She gestured toward the space beside her. “What's the problem with the Champion? That was a clean kill. They attacked and didn't belong here enough to make trouble and get away with that.”

“She's never liked questioning prisoners, but I'm afraid she's changed...” I didn't want to think her Joining had made it so much worse.

“We all change, Anders. It's part of the package.” Her voice wasn't merry or even comforting.

Realizing that I was staring at the ground, I looked up. “I don't know anyone who knew me before my Joining. Not that many more from before I merged with Justice. I can't tell when I stopped being the escapist. I don't want to lose her that way either. How human will we be, will she be before our Callings?”

That made her grin. “Gonna be a long time for me...”

I glared at her. “I met enough who were already losing their humanity, long before their Calling. Oh, their oaths were still to fight the darkspawn, but they thirsted for killing just as much as darkspawn do. Stroud was already ripe with it years ago. Any feeling for non-Wardens is gone by now.” 

A pause. “Do you really think that about the Warden, or even Alistair?”

Anger boiled up. I wanted to say that I did. I was still angry that they conscripted Hawke, but Justice did not allow my angry lie. I slammed my fist against the table and heard a crack. 

She was more honed, more a noble, commanding through force of will more than even back at the Vigil. Her feelings for the other Warden were just as clear, and her unexpected fondness for us was a surprise. Few Wardens could sustain relationships, between attrition and changing posts. I'd always looked on them with a kind of envy.

I remembered that feeling, even though I had been close to Hawke one way or the other, for nearly as long.

“You should heal your hand, Sparklefingers. You might need it later.” Sigrun was grinning again.

Feeling sheepish, I did. That didn't stop my worry about Dera's state of mind, and I finally found the words I'd sought since we'd been caught. “She's a Champion, Sigrun. She doesn't sink to the level of expectations and demands, but pulls people in her wake into making things better, even the greedy and mutual enemies. I will _never_ forgive Cousland if Hawke loses that because of the Joining. That will be a loss to Thedas more than any one Warden recruiting.”

She looked surprised. “Your black robes, you cast yourself as villain, didn't you? Not a funeral, you wanted her to pull the city in her wake.”

I could only nod. “Hawke as Viscount would have made Kirkwall much better, and maybe beyond.”

“You forgot to tell her that script, Anders.”

I had to smile a little. I wasn't that upset to be still alive and now free of Vengeance. “And she pulled me in her wake again, though still very angry at me.”

She drummed her fingers. “The Warden listed you as being on leave after she returned to the Vigil. If you hadn't popped up in Kirkwall, you might have never been found. She can be a softie, but you really pushed that one.”

It was a little hard to think of Attryne as a softie, but I had been out of touch.

I returned to our room and Hawke was still sleeping with Paws at her feet. Removing my coat, I slid beside her and pulled her close. Hawke didn't rouse, but she snuggled a trifle closer even as she began to wake.

Her eyes had lit in recognition and in a calmer affection that brought me joy. All I could say in a suddenly gruff voice was, “Love,” before I kissed her. We must talk of her fears, but she wasn't a cold killer.

“That was a nice wake-up,” she admitted, cuddling closer.

“Are you feeling better?”

Dera sighed and nodded, almost forcing me to the next thing. But this was a secret I hadn't had to promise to share. Undoing years of hiding things to protect her, would it ever grow easier?

With a little of my own fear I admitted, “I'm sorry I did that, Aldera. I didn't kno... I couldn't think of any other way to stop what you were doing to yourself.”

I saw understanding, and sadness in her eyes. When she wiped her eyes, I let a whisper of healing free for her.

When she laid her hand along my cheek I leaned against it, closing my eyes for a second.

Hawke spoke very quietly. “Anders, I'm afraid of getting used to doing things like that, because it was cruel and horrible. Papa was very firm on that, especially when teaching Bethany about magic and ethics. He couldn't always teach her away from our home when the weather was terrible. With Carver's and my added questions, I guess the lessons became more than about the dangers of blood magic.”

I could help but wonder how much Thedas would be different if lessons like this were shared.

“Sometimes in my dreams I can still hear his voice asking Bethany lesson questions, even if I can't hear what he's saying anymore. I can remember when Carver got in trouble for saying he _enjoyed_ beating up another boy who'd been rude to Bethany. Necessity and protecting my family, no matter what, was not to be something to be proud of or skill. Earlier today, I could hear his voice because I had...” She stopped.

“You had what, Hawke?” I had to press, more than I wanted to. “I hate to say this, but that is probably the first thing I had to face after my Joining. We had to do sometimes very ugly things when fighting darkspawn. Even the first thing when I could only watch when I saw my first death from the Joining itself only hours after fighting my first darkspawn.”

Nothing I'd done, even as a spirit healer, made any difference. I could feel Dera's hug, but this wasn't yet what I wanted to say. So my voice got harsher because I didn't want to admit this. 

“We did many things, things I could have never imagined before my Joining. We negotiated with a smart darkspawn, we slaughtered women whose only crime was to be captured by darkspawn and made into breeders... and we sealed Amaranthine and burnt it with people still trapped inside with the mass of darkspawn to die.” The screams haunted my nights as much as the taint until I merged with Justice. “We face that necessity constantly and can't escape it the way other groups like the Chantry and Templars do by pretending what they do is right or just. The Warden wasn't the best fighter, wasn't the best negotiator, but she faced necessity without excusing that necessity as anything but ugly and regrettable.”

Clutching Dera, I realized I was weeping. Her Joining was necessary if Cousland wanted to help us. All I could feel was regret.

She held me tightly too, and said wryly, “Now I feel a little selfish to break down over a kidnapper.”

“No! That's not what I meant to say.” I didn't want to belittle her upset. “Being upset means you aren't one of the uncaring bastards in every group, nobles and Templars, Chantry and Grey Wardens. Doing what needs to be done, unflinching and with as much compassion as you can...”

“I was not compassionate when I questioned that Carta thug! That was cruel and evil.”

“Necessity, love. He and his are a threat to Bethany and we don't know how many others. He admitted that he was counting on rumor that he wouldn't have to spill. Your father trained you for how many years to protect the rest of your family? Would your father have questioned him?”

Hawke paused. “Maybe. I didn't see it happen, but we'd had little trouble for the years we lived in Lothering.”

With a quick hug I allowed, “A little magic can go a long way most of the time, but I wonder what he must have done while Bethany was young.”

A moment later, she kissed me. Reaching around her, I rubbed her back for a long moment, feeling much better about this.

Quietly, Hawke told me as we settled for sleep, “I'm sorry I got sick all over you earlier.”

“It's not easy, love. I hope it never does.” I fell asleep, hoping this helped.

Later our hunger drove us out for food, with Ser Mew perched on my shoulders again.

Hawke looked around at the other Wardens. “This settles it. We have to deal with the Carta and return to Kirkwall. I hope we can send a message to Bethany quickly, too. If this is about us being Hawkes, she deserves to know.”

“Of course, love. Kirkwall, that beautiful city, just waiting to welcome us with open arms... and cells.”

Hawke didn't more than smile at that. “It wasn't that welcoming the first time, was it? I was so desperate to provide for Mother and protect Bethany, right under the Templar's watch. Carver had died and we couldn't even stop to return him to the ashes. It felt like we left him behind, and I didn't have too many skills. Farming and surviving Ostagar wasn't enough to keep us together.”

“The smugglers...” I knew bits of her time there, from stories told at the Hanged Man to the secret ways of moving through Kirkwall.

“It wasn't just smugglers, I needed skill to make up for my smaller blades. When I was still working for Athenril, this elven woman taught me some useful skills. Some skills I tried to forget as soon as the teacher moved on. I told myself that I didn't have to become a cold assassin, to become a creature for killing who uses torture and pain. I'd just be faster and give a quick death even to my enemies. I wasn't an assassin, really I was just a rogue who used the shadows.”

I was too familiar with this kind of justification. “And you nearly convinced yourself.”

Dera's smile was only faint. “It worked, usually. I avoided trouble when I could. I might steal a random secret or unneeded trinket. I mean, what good were all those torn pants in caves or Hightown mansions?”

That made me laugh, as we sometimes found the same kinds of oddities outside an elven camp as in an open mine pit, too.

She lost her smile. “The woman... the assassin Erdatien, had a look in her eyes. When she looked at you, she assessed you too for the five quickest ways to kill you. She said she only taught me because Athenril ordered her to. I wasn't a killer like her, I wasn't. I had family, and I made friends too. I wasn't just seeing people as meat tokens like her, that their deaths would happen in a way that make me a profit. But I'm just like her, how did she know?

“Even in King Bhelen's study, I knew where to stand and angle my attack and that I'd need a grenade to hide my location to get out of the shooting gallery alive. I even thought that for Dumae, worried his audience was a trap to force Bethany out. The dwarf wasn't a person either, only meat I had to make talk before I killed him. I used his pain to get information, still planning to kill him, without compassion, without mercy. He was only a thing and that means I'm only a thing of violence like _her_. I told myself for years that I wasn't a cold killer. I let people go. I encouraged others too. I didn't torture or give cruel, false hope. Dead or let go, but no tortuous wait.”

“Necessity.” I gripped her arm, but then pulled her close for a kiss, running my fingers through her looser hair. I needed to interrupt this line of thought. “Dera?”

“Hmm?” Dera was nicely distracted.

But distracting her was not really my purpose, I had to convince her no matter how many times it took. Leaning back, I looked into her eyes and couldn't help smiling. “At least I know how to get your attention, love. No, you're not an assassin. You kill.” I kissed her, just a peck. 

“You show mercy,” I gave her another quick kiss. “Necessity drives us all at times, but it's not who you are, love. If you cannot find mercy for yourself, what hope can I have? Really, you were a champion well before that cess-pit even noticed, and you will always be my Champion.” 

Holding me close, she muttered into my neck, “I wish I could heal or make something more positive.”

“What would you want to create, love?” I understood futility. I had endured that for most of my life. I didn't want Hawke trapped there.

Her silence seemed too long, but she was too tense to have fallen asleep. “I don't know, I just want something, anything that isn't blood and death.”

“We can look, Dera. We do have some time.” I met her wet eyes, feeling I was on the edge of tears too.

Neither of us mentioned what we both hoped for a month ago. It was still too fresh an injury.

After we silently held each other for a time, she spoke. “We'd better leave for Kirkwall... You'll look like a Warden, I suppose. Do Grey Wardens keep a loose woman on the road?”

I was very glad to hear humor in her voice, even if returning to the City of Chains made me very nervous.

“No.” I grinned at her and smacked my lips. “We keep them in our quarters and we never come out. They always die with a smile on their faces.”

“Oh, really?” Dera moved closer. “I feel remarkably healthy for a corpse.”

Touching my forehead to hers before kissing her, I was glad the storm had passed. “I am a very, very good healer.” 

Hawke spent the evening freshening my hair dye to the darker brown again and re-braiding my longer braids. Sigrun sent a message to Bethany's outpost. Courier or pigeon didn't matter as we needed to give her time for travel too. I offered to write a note with the relevant Carta information for her commander. They would need convincing, as I doubted she had as much latitude as we did.

The next day we left for Kirkwall, and leaving a safe place wasn't as easy for me this time. I wasn't under pressure from Vengeance or even the Warden. I was used to running, not wanting to stay.

We had to travel quickly and I did not like to deal with my horse, who seemed to have decided he could ignore me since I hadn't visited. I didn't enjoy riding the beast all that much. I couldn't even blame it on Justice, because I'd had some spectacular failures in escapes due to the evil, nasty things. 

Hawke had no problem, she'd grown up on a farm. Even Ser Mew liked having his basket strapped behind me, taking a perch on me or the basket while Paws trotted alongside us.

The spring sunshine and open road suited Hawke, even if she wore her plain armor with a bow out and her daggers hidden. She spoke with a terrible fake Orlesian accent when we were alone, but the further we got from the Warden post, the less she spoke. I spoke gruffly, when I had to.

Since we were quiet while we passed merchants and travelers on the way to Jader, I heard more of the rumors racing though Thedas. I wasn't happy to hear that Circles had been annulled, and Justice rumbled too. Cumberland was holding out, and it wasn't clear why the city was simply going about its business. Kirkwall was rebuilding, amidst rumors that some mages had stayed in the Gallows. News from father away was more patchy and contradictory. 

What was clear even from rumors was that, despite fighting around many Circle Towers, the Chantry had not been able to annul and destroy mages freely as the Templars marched.

I was feeling good as the other Circles had not rolled over like Orsino did, regarding his charges. They did want more, but weren't running mad with their magic, like the Chantry taught about the Magisters.

The road we were on was heading north to Jader from the Imperial Highway. This road wasn't as broad and well made as the highway, but it was solid and well-traveled. Riding our horses, which I hoped we could leave behind, meant that we were overtaking walkers and caravans. Most were just traders carrying winter production out to other cities, but a larger one was moving slower.

Paws growled softly and moved closer as we closed, but I didn't see what bothered the dog. I didn't see many weapons, just traders, wearing rich clothing while their workers were tending the wagons and mules. They didn't seem to have anything bulky, but it was far too early for crops to begin shipping from what Hawke said earlier.

I wondered what happened to Sandal and his father after we saw him in the Gallows. I wasn't sure Orlais was the place for a rune-making savant. With how much the Warden and Hawke had made use of his services, I hoped his next mistress wouldn't be the Divine.

Hawke's horse was a little in the lead and I spurred my horse to catch up without thinking about it, my horse nearly barreling into hers before they both stopped.

A fire burst inside my mind and then my blood began to burn. I couldn't make myself move even as I started to become alarmed, rattling inside my flesh cage.

Hawke was frozen on her horse next to me and my flesh burnt from the inside and I couldn't move. She struggled to move, reaching for her daggers in a disjoint way.

 _ **Fiends!**_ My hand was reaching up for the great sword, my legs turning to slide down ever so slowly.

My mind sluggish, I understood what was happening, but I couldn't do anything about it. Even a worry about my life draining away was only a distant concern.

When I hit the ground, my knees buckled and my gaze was drawn unerringly to the richly dressed and smiling merchants. The drovers nearby weren't acting. They had turned their faces away. 

When I grasped Celebrant, I felt a little stronger. Despite Justice's shouts ringing in my head, we were weakening rapidly from blood loss as well as his actions. One shaky step as another wave of fire swept through my flesh and I swung the sword in the direction of the nearest merchant, silently.

She tried to block us with a staff, but Justice _was_ fiery wrath and knocked the stick aside, just missing her head. My head cleared a little and I was able to identify the spell, even if I could feel Justice's anger that he could not do more than attack with the sword.

Justice swung the blade in a great arc to attack the false merchant again.

“Hold, warrior! Or you will lose your partner.” A male voice was followed by Hawke's cry.

Paralyzed by my internal battle, my blade landed in the ground awkwardly with Justice pushed aside and still angry. My momentum turned me to my side and I could see the dagger in her throat as blood spun out around us.

I desperately wanted to keep control so I could heal her, but we had weakened enough that Justice seized control from me.

“ _ **You deserve justice if you grant no mercy.”**_ He had lifted the blade again and swung it low before looping it up and into the mage in a smite.

That took everything out of us and I collapsed to my knees as I heard cries from both merchants.

But now I heard Hawke's shout as she moved about in a rush. Another burn began in my blood, but stopped, before I felt her gripping my shoulders. 

“A... Warden?” Her voice was worried, and I finally could see that she was bleeding freely from her exertions.

I had trouble lifting my hands to touch her and knew I could not heal her just now. “Drink a potion, love.”

She fed me one as well, and strength and energy flowed back into me. The silence of the caravan made me turn to make sure no one was about to attack. 

They just looked at us, some with their eyes watering. One dwarf had been a turncoat and fled, but the rest were eager to tell us what happened to them and what had been planned for them. None had been looking forward to a journey to Tevinter, and an elf said that Tevinter had been kidnapping new slaves almost openly anywhere away from noble strongholds ever since Kirkwall.

That burst my pride in what we had accomplished and I looked at Hawke. No single force was enough to deal with slavers on larger drives than this. Tevinter might again swallow up chunks of Thedas.

Her smile was a little forced. “Well, I can kill Magisters. I'm good at that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	12. Old Stomping Grounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders travel to Kirkwall, hoping his uniform and dark braids will hide him enough. Will they find any there that they can trust to learn why Hawke was attacked?

## Orzammar, Grey Warden Outpost

## Hawke:

As much as I liked Sigrun, I was very glad to be leaving the outpost. I'd grown up with legends of the Wardens, and like every child I pretended to ride griffins and kill monsters. I was still a teen when the first rumors of darkspawn reached Lothering just before Papa died. Darkspawn were much scarier then and I'd never even seen any Wardens.

I knew a lot more about them when I left for Kirkwall. I knew about their danger, I'd fought many darkspawn since Ostagar too. The nightmares, the Deep Roads, the preternatural sense, and the Joining as a last ditch hope to cure the Blight: becoming a Warden wasn't as exciting or glamorous as a little girl thought. Since then, I learned more of the costs that none of them admitted to outsiders.

There was little glamor so far.

Still, I was ahead in experience over new wardens like Ednund, Tharlin, and even dwarves who joined after our Proving, like Brosca. I don't know what they thought about the Warden secrets.

Now I was leaving the Wardens. Other Wardens. I couldn't quite believe that I was a Grey Warden. Even as it happened to me, all I could think about was why it made sense, and worrying about Anders.

Sigrun and some of the others saw us off, this parting much better than the others after Kirkwall. “It's a good thing you're going. You aren't as much a skinnybutt, Sparklefingers.” She followed that with a pinch which made Anders almost yelp. 

He glared into her grin though, with a bit of Justice's annoyance.

Ednund completely stopped being an arse after my Joining, and almost came along too. But Anders didn't want any company, and exercised seniority, glares, and snarky comments to get his way.

I figured we'd be meeting Bethany, and figure out our next step there.

Jader was the closest port town, and there was a steady traffic from Orzammar, possibly more than to Ferelden or the old Dalelands and Orlais. So we weren't quite as alone as Anders would like. 

We started using Brana and Heysal's names again. Anders got the attention of one family of travelers, and if his parents would have allowed it, the boy would have run off for a Joining right then.

Finding the Warden contact in Jader wasn't hard, it was one of the assistants to the portmaster. She found us a ship, a regular merchant that set sail tomorrow afternoon. The price would be good, too, as the first officer said the captain often sailed with Wardens and thought us good luck against pirates.

Well, maybe that was true. We had no problem with pirates last time, even if the crew did. Maybe two Wardens was luckier than one.

When I got a good look at the _Bell of Avernus,_ it was sort of middling size, but it had lots of sails. Not that I knew much about ships, but it looked fast to me. The crew was loading supplies, mostly barrels and some crates when the First took us to meet the Captain. We'd have a closet of our own to sleep on two fold-down benches that touched each other. It was better than bunks and hammocks even if our pets made things extra crowded.

At least we wouldn't have to hide this time.

We had to find a room at one of the inns in Jader and turn our horses in for other Wardens to use. I had grown attached to mine already, and Anders pretended he minded leaving his behind. I kept an eye on Anders. 

This was the largest human crowd he'd been near since Sebastian's attack. There were many more soldiers patrolling and stationed about. Most were sworn to Ferelden, wearing uniforms similar to those I'd served under at Ostagar. I hadn't served long enough to be issued a uniform.

It was funny when just about everyone preferred to speak with the Warden and ignored me.

It wasn't as funny when a couple of Templars in red skirts hailed Anders. 

“Warden! We'd like a word with you.” These two had the usual huge blades of slower warriors. 

Fenris was faster than most with big blades, but I was faster than him. While we could take these two, easily, we had no reason that would not attract too much attention.

“Andraste's knickerweasels. Take any word if you wish, I have plenty of them to spare.” His voice sounded pleasant, with very little strain.

“We seek the apostate known as the Scourge who killed over two hundred of the Maker's beloved in the Kirkwall Chantry. Who are you and where are you bound?” He wore his helm even out in crowded streets, and it was oh, so easy to see he had abused a lot of lyrium, by the bright blue haze over his eyes.

The other's was bright too, but I could hear a guard patrol coming this way. That didn't say they'd be allies, but...

Anders slowly lost his smile. “I am a Grey Warden on assignment, I have no interest in drawing my sword just to prove I can kill you with it. Under treaty, you do not have the authority to interfere with that without something more definite than a resemblance to a mage.”

The other Templar laughed, his voice heavy with an Orlesian accent. “The Knight-Vigilent says we will no longer answer to old women when our charge is to keep Thedas safe from mages and abominations. You _will_ answer our questions.”

Other watchers began to move closer to listen or move away from a possible fight.

But this was Ferelden, if barely, and Orlais began further west across the border gate. I wanted to smack him. “You are no longer in Orlais. Here people owe respect to the Queen and the Grand Cleric.” _And_ _not_ _you, I implied._

“The Hero of Ferelden for some of us...” Anders added with a smug smile, though he had a glint in his eye too.

A few murmurs came from the people remaining on the street. A squad in uniform halted outside the immediate area, and seemed to be waiting like some onlookers. 

I wasn't going to start a fight, but I was damned good at finishing them.

“That heretic approves of mages and lets them run free to kill. We will not... for the Maker!” He didn't draw, but punched me.

I'd been expecting him to draw a sword and didn't dodge fast enough. The other one shouted a second later and the waves of their smites rolled over us. Some of the others felt it too by the cries. I was dizzied for a moment and rolled away even as I drew my blades. I heard others being drawn. All around me.

My head clearing, I moved to attack. They might have seen something and wanted a fight, thinking a smite would be enough. My blades slid into the lungs and throat of my attacker even as he attacked where I'd been. 

The other was blocked by Anders, still looking like himself as he swung the blade. He was too late and weak to do more than parry, but that bought enough time for me to stab back at the Templar. It wasn't as well aimed, it would take hours to die, but Anders swung again before his blade tip hit the ground.

“You okay, Heysal?” I took an awkward step as I looked for more Templars.

“So that's what a smite feels like, Brana.” His sarcasm was a little thin and eyes showed whites as his knees wobbled.

He solved that by pulling me close for an embrace. That close I could see that Justice was awake. 

The guard spoke to me, spoke to Anders as Warden Heysal, and spoke to the witnesses. A public street wasn't the best place to confront a Grey Warden in Ferelden. The second one might survive, but Anders did not even mention bandaging him. 

We were told of a decent inn to wash off and get a room. There we heard more about the stream of Templars from Orlais who kept trying to enter the port a few at a time. That was why there were far more of the guard. 

So far they only found a older midwife with only a little healing who screeched like a haunt and hit them with her bag of medicines. Turned out a dozen people in the market had been delivered by her over the years... and. Well, those foreign Templars were delivered from the market to the Chantry in diapers. They had to apologize to get their armor back, but the Reverend Mother wasn't too sympathetic as the midwife lived in the Chantry and was quite devout.

Anders laughed at that story.

We didn't laugh at the story that Oswick's tower was annulled and Solas had fallen to Imperial troops. Nevarra might be considered decadent here but it was an unwilling battleground too close to both the Imperium and Qun. I didn't know how even downtrodden elves could prefer either group like some had in Kirkwall,

Other rumors weren't as definite. I suspected it would be months until we could even get a good picture where things needed a little help.

There wasn't really anyone to help in Oswick, now. We were quiet when we went to bed, and only held each other for a while before I slept with Anders smoothing my hair.

We presented ourselves at the ship at mid-day. We'd bought new and old Ferelden clothing in the market to replace bits we'd been wearing out. One was a short dress Anders liked, even if not as short as Isabela's.

Unlike last time, this trip on the _Bell of Avernus_ , was uneventful aside from a few nightmares about darkspawn attacking in Lothering one breezy fall day, and I had to keep my family away from the taint. I didn't really want to have to conduct a Joining and I felt like I'd forgotten the words until I started. Then it was too easy. And too painful. 

I woke just as an elf candidate collapsed from that vile cup in my dream, with Anders holding me close to muffle my noises.

Too soon we were watching as the ship passed through the stone cliffs and under the blank eyes of the slave statues. I shivered in my dress as Anders held me close, a slight disguise for my return. I hated those statues as symbols, not unalloyed with wariness at how much punch the ones in the Gallows had in a fight. Then the Gallows came into full view, and it looked unchanged from here. I wondered what happened to the statues we fought.

Kirkwall hadn't really changed, especially seen from the lower parts of the city. I could look up and see where the Chantry building no longer towered, but the rest of the city was stone; buildings and streets had been literally carved out of the rock. They were solid enough to stand up to many slave uprisings. The destruction of that one building wasn't only the physical.

But how much was it still dominating people's minds? Cut off the top section of a fir tree, and the tree keeps growing. I wanted that tree to be Kirkwall, not Tevinter nor the Chantry, as rabid in an opposite way.

The first thing I noticed as we watched the docking, was that the only guard at the docks wore the long familiar armor of the City Watch. What was less familiar was that the guard had a neckerchief like Aveline's.

Both afraid and hopeful that it could be her, I looked closer, and it was an unfamiliar and bearded face. I tugged Anders' arm and pointed the guard without raising my arm.

He nodded and I saw the same curiosity on his face.

I was still getting used to seeing him like this, in Grey Warden armor. There was a difference in the way he carried himself, even with the grumbles. I teased him about my being some nameless minion with blades, but the signs of the man and leader he might have been if he hadn't been 'raised' by the Circle, were obvious now to me. He wasn't comfortable, but I'd always been the more public of the two of us.

Ser Mew was peeking out of the basket, objecting to our leaving. He'd enjoyed the freedom on the ship, a regular in ferrying Wardens across the Waking Sea. This time we weren't planning to go near Hightown; the warden outpost was in Lowtown, not that far from Gamlen's hovel.

We arrived at this safe house, and the Warden was a stranger to us, but he couldn't question we had business there. We were assigned a closet to use, and Anders set to do some bandaging for any here.

I went outside with Paws while he was busy, and we wandered towards the Alienage. I wondered who was now in Merrill's home.

Thrown into a wall and held up with an arm across my neck, my head was spinning when I heard a snarling and familiar voice. “What are you doing here, fool?”

I knew the voice, and despite ringing ears and head, I had to smile. “Good to see you too, Aveline. Would you believe the Carta here are behind it?”

Letting me down, she looked around to say, “You shouldn't be here, Hawke. Too many still want to think you did it yourself, despite any evidence.”

Not having anywhere else to go for privacy, I said, “Let's talk then, as long as Gamlen's still solvent.”

Aveline snorted. “He still lives here.”

I got lucky, he must have been at the Rose or somewhere else. The lock was still cheap, and it took only a second to pop it open. His cleanliness hadn't improved either, but there was that hammer I'd found hanging on the wall. Aveline ignored my lack of a key, as usual.

“Someone here in Kirkwall wants Bethany and me dead, Captain. Or at least captured. Not because of... here, but Carta gangs found us in the Grey Warden keep in Ansburg, and in Orzammar. They weren't interested in... the mage at all.” I didn't want to say his name out loud, anywhere in this city.

My friend frowned at the mention of the Carta. “We have not had much problem with them lately. Are you sure?”

Remembering the wreck of a dwarf, babbling answers before I finished him, I felt everything drain out of me. I sat on the floor before I could fall. “Very sure.”

“Hawke,” Aveline's voice showed the concern that her face didn't. “What have you been doing these months?”

I giggled.

And then I couldn't stop.

That made her drop to kneel beside me, “Aldera, what happened? Is... Was Anders killed?”

I was pulled into a rough hug against her armor and finally stopped giggling. It echoed oddly against the metal.

“No,” I managed to say. “He's fine, with Grey Wardens right now. Many things happened, including Vael and a company of mercenaries. I even met the Hero of Ferelden at the edge of a blade. But this is new, and not related to those other things.”

Promises, I wondered if I should hold to them. Then I wondered if I could. “And you always thought I should get into politics, have a keeper, be under orders or something. I got all that now, even if I'm not supposed to talk about it...”

I had to laugh again. Me under orders, it was a joke.

Shaken by the shoulders, I met Aveline's eyes and nearly blurted it out. I clamped my mouth together to prevent spilling.

Her face shifting, she got what I'd avoided saying directly. “So the Carta came after you, even while the mage is back under Grey Warden oversight. Bethany a distance away. Carta coming from _my_ city.”

“I'd vote for you to be Viscount. You and Vael were pushing, but really...”

Hah, I got her to flush about something other than Donnic. But it was still a truth that this city needed a stronger leader.

“We had to return and investigate despite the risk, Aveline. Why do they want to capture us, when there are much easier targets? I didn't know you were here, but it's not a crime here that you could investigate. I hoped Varric returned.” I said, knowing how thin a lead that was.

She smiled grimly at that. “Varric's here and the Chantry is sure he knows more than he tells, even if his tales confuse them. He still has his old rooms, but I think he finally owns a piece of that inn.”

“Well then, he'll have the good stuff in his rooms again. How are you and Donnic?” I asked, and we chatted about more surface news: Isabela's ship, Merrill's clan, and Sebastian's plans. She told me that Fenris had returned as well but she didn't see him very often.

“You're not hiding all that well, Hawke,” was Aveline's last warning before she left me there. The rank signs on her armor were worn, but she'd gotten restless the longer we'd talked and her duty was calling again.

I had to hope few really knew what I looked like, with only that stupid statue or my Champion armor to remind them. I hadn't worn any skirts in public since Mother's funeral, as rarely as I'd worn them before. The docks statue had the plate with my name removed and some random chips in it when we passed it on the docks.

Aveline's name had been painted on. That was fine with me. It kind of reminded me of her anyways.

I searched for a fabric merchant still open in Lowtown, and paid a bit of our hard-earned gold, to commission a series of neckerchiefs for the statue. She was the one most dedicated to the city itself. It had been home for a long time, but I helped people, not stone and laws.

When I returned to the Warden base, Anders was sitting just inside the entrance. His eyes lit up when I entered.

Stepping next to him, I bent down to say, “I was fine, just ran into the Guard Captain and we talked in Gamlen's palatial home. I even left a tip for the service when I left.”

Pulling me down to sit beside him, Anders was startled. “She came back? No, of course she did. Why am I even surprised?”

“Because I was afraid she'd get hurt because of my decisions?” I sighed. Of course most of the people we'd ever helped were here too. “She told me Varric still has that suite, you want to go and see him, Warden?”

_\--- x ---_

## Anders:

After these months away, Kirkwall felt so strange now. I'd never voluntarily returned to some place that I'd left with full intention of it being permanent before.

Hawke kept us to the darker ways from the docks, some of which I knew, and some where she'd paused before choosing the path we took. Hawke was in simple and almost tawdry clothing with her hair flowing down her front, while I was in my Warden armor, as we made our way to Lowtown and the Warden's house.

Bethany had still been in Ansburg when she'd sent her message to us about her attack. Whatever this was, it started with Carta here. We needed news and this was our best idea: finding Varric.

Varric was so angry at Justice and me that he gave the elf approval for our deaths. I fingered the seam where my scar had long healed away completely. While my body may not remember the scar, I did. It had not been a fair fight, but then how many were? Hawke, at least, had been held a bit more safely even if she didn't accept that and talked them into only a parting of the ways. But now we were back, like a bad coin, looking for help.

Which was truer, the friendship or the betrayal? Could I say? Did I have the right to say?

We left the Warden house after dark, heading for the _Hanged Man_ , with Hawke hanging on me on the street and our pets left behind. There, I crossed the main room and climbed the stairs at a quicker pace than my usual stroll. I looked different enough in blue and silverite armor, with died and braided hair like any stubborn Fereldan Warden. Norah and a few other familiar faces were still there, but we ignored them. The ale here was no reason to stop either.

I led Hawke, but slowed on looking in through the open doorway. The streets had changed, the Templars no longer visible, the Guard sparse but present. But Varric's room hadn't changed, and I could hear him speaking about some business with someone else. We needed to be private, so I turned to put my back to the wall out of sight from Varric's room and crossed my arms, as this could be a long wait.

Hawke had a different idea and wrapped herself around me, her blouse very low, low enough it took me a second to realize how close she was. Holding her close, her back had only skin to feel instead of armor, and I felt a qualm about the risk we were taking here where we were known. Touching her chased off that lonely qualm and I happily waved it goodbye.

When her leg went around me and I had to support her weight, I whispered, “You're pushing a little too much for a public area, pretty bird...” The new endearment felt right.

“No further,” she said agreeably with a laugh in her whisper. “But no one is really looking at our faces, they'll try to figure how likely it is that we'll go further. You Wardens _do_ have that reputation.”

I laughed into her hair. “How have you managed to avoid that reputation? Haven't some of those blasted stories about the Champion had you in bed with all of us, sometimes in groups?”

Meeting my eyes, Hawke admitted, “I suppose being Champion from defeating Qunari isn't exciting enough, people want a Champion in their bed.”

“Does fighting your blasted mabari off count?” I murmured as a babbling drunk passed us. “But no, I am very sure your bed has only two...” _And I was very grateful to the Maker it was me._

“Well, I do have a fondness for a certain threesom...”

That old tease I silenced with a hard kiss; taking the rest of her weight as I pulled her closer; I could wait.

A cough beside us and I heard a smug voice say, “I can't take you two anywhere, can I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: When this ship name came up in a random name generator, I had to use it. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	13. Edgy Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After parting on bad turns, reunions with friends are like a skittish Ser Mew...

## Kirkwall, _The Hanged Man_

## Anders:

Turning her head, Hawke said breathlessly to Varric, “You should have come along with us, just to meet Sigrun.”

“Oh, really? That sounds like a tale not for the hallway.” Varric sounded like his old humors again. “It might have been a bit more fun, too.”

So I returned Hawke to her feet with a quick kiss and we entered Varric's suite. It looked nearly unchanged in the months we'd been gone, but this time he shut the door.

Varric poured strong drinks and put his feet up on his long table as Hawke and I sat next to each other opposite him.

I had many fond memories of card games and a lightly drunk Hawke next to me right here. I took my drink and enjoyed the fumes this time, my arm around her openly now. This was quality alcohol and to be enjoyed. I had a sip and then a larger swallow or two, enjoying my freedom.

His smile was genial as we savored, but Varric's voice was a little more tentative when he spoke. “I wasn't sure I'd see you again, Hawke, after what happened.” He wasn't quite looking at me.

Hawke looked as sad as I felt about it. I'd _wanted_ Varric to be around to help Hawke after... I was gone. I trusted him more than anyone else, anyone who wasn't already a Warden. The others helped her and sometimes me, but the merchant lord had had no other agendas.

Telling exaggerated stories about us was the worst that could be said, and he'd been a good friend in every other way.

Varric's face lost all humor. “Things have happened, Templars and Seekers prying all over in the aftermath. One is especially persistent and keeps coming back with more questions, thinking that I'm not telling everything.”

“What? He wants to know about your secret collection of satin bustiers?” Hawke asked in an attempt at humor.

His face brightening, Varric pretended to reach for Bianca. “Shit, Hawke. When did you find out about them? Who talked?” A pause and he said simply, “I'm sorry, Hawke.”

Her smile faded as well and she said as plainly, “I was angry and scared too. I didn't know there could be that many knives in my back.”

I winced and downed my drink, then rubbed her back as those wounds I couldn't heal.

Looking at me for a moment, she turned again to Varric. “I was worried too, but I ended up more angry that you didn't trust me. That you didn't even bother to check first. I thought you caught the trick of it with Kieran when Anders checked him for possession or control.”

I had to speak here, as it had become more clear over the months to me. “They didn't want to risk you. They wouldn't have been able to heal you if they had been correct in their fears.”

They had been protecting Hawke in a way from me, from us.

Varric looked at me with interest. “You're much calmer about this, Blondie. Did you lose your glowing half somehow?”

“ _ **Hardly**_ ,” we said with a slight smile. _**“**_ _ **But she did find a kind of cure for us.”**_

Hawke gripped our hand and I returned her smile with a quick kiss of her hand before adding, “Justice was cursed by a demon in Amaranthine. He was supposed to go mad and become a demon for meddling in their plans. It didn't work out that way, he hadn't expected something like me.”

Smirking, Hawke whispered over-loudly, “You are unique, my love.”

“So you don't plan on doing anything drastic this visit, like demolishing my suite?” Varric asked with a little nervousness that wasn't all feigned.

“Not unless you start summoning demons, the stone should survive. I know how your people get about the Stone.” I grinned.

“No, summoning Bianca to help is good enough for me,” he said with his smile returning. “Well, Hawke, when you went to ground for months while the chaos spread out from the Circles and Chantries, I could see that Blondie or his passenger wasn't calling the shots.” His smile a taunt at me, he added, “You really can't hide that well to save your life, 'A.' We considered starting a collection of your secret messages.”

I sniffed my disbelief but Hawke snickered.

Varric smirked at us. “I heard a rather funny rumor about a pirate attack on a Qun vessel. Nothing solid since then, but now it sounds like you've been in my family's old stomping grounds.”

Hawke looked at me. “We might have stayed a little longer, but we were attacked by a group of Carta looking for me. They're more organized than the ones we dealt with before the Deep Roads. And... this was just after we got a message that Bethany had been attacked at Ansburg Keep.”

Hawke's voice got flatter from that interrogation. “We... I got out of them that their orders came out of Kirkwall.”

Varric steepled his fingers and said, “I'd heard about the attack on Sunshine, but not that she might return.”

“A message went by bird, so she should be here soon.” Hawke leaned against me.

“It's far too quiet without the Hawke sisters around here, I had so _little_ to write about,” Varric mourned.

Hawke shook a fist without heat. “You're making me so busty!”

“It's what the audience wants, Hawke, unless you want a manly beard?” Varric asked with an easy grin. “I can do that, a manly if only human beard. Tall, with piercing eyes and a broken nose. For dramatic irony, I could make him a blood mage.”

“Can't say I want a beard that much.” Hawke was trying to suppress a grin. “I'm rather attached to a certain mage too.”

“Wouldn't bother me at all, love. I'd adore you that way too.” Not that Hawke being a blood mage would set very well, but I couldn't imagine some kind of life without her, or him.

“I'd rather keep what I have,” she said dryly. “One of your books was in the Shaperite archive as if it wasn't fiction, Varric.”

“You wound me, Hawke. When have I sought to mislead my readers?” Varric said, putting his hands to his heart. “You'll have to tell me how you got in, too.”

“Can we have a cut this time? There's a lot of her heaving bosoms and my magical staff, and we can't draw on her estate anymore.” I didn't want another Proving.

Varric rubbed his jaw and said, “I believe your cousin from Denerim has been taking care of things. Poor woman is blind ever since the Blight and unable to travel. Seems it's taking far too long for a new Viscount to be chosen and some law said the estate couldn't be forfeit except for high treason against the Viscount. You plainly could not have done that since there was no viscount when you left.”

“I have a cousin now, poor woman. I hope she'd hired a strong attendant to protect her from all those fortune hunters?” Dera grinned before looking at me. “Perhaps even a someone with a knowledge of healing?”

Varric and Dera bantered for a while about this mythical cousin and her adventures in Queen Anora's court, but I only listened to them as the warmth from my drink spread out from my belly.

Then Varric was surprised at my second drink. “You drinking? Something I never expected, Blondie. What's the story? You can tell Papa Tethras,” he coaxed.

Looking at Hawke, I almost wanted to keep the story to ourselves because of Vengeance 's threat. I'd been so afraid he'd kill her for so long, and confused when Justice seemed to approve. But Varric knew the worst of it and I doubted the former priest would keep what he knew secret.

Dera spoke up. “Please don't spread all the details, most won't believe it even if we do. But Vael can vouch for it.”

“The little prince found you and lives. That will be a tale.” The dwarf rubbed his hands in anticipation and slipped a notebook from under the table.

“I don't want to kill my friends,” Hawke insisted sadly, “even if I think they're wrong. I suppose it started when we were leaving the area and decided to help Merrill do something for her clan. It was a good thing to do. Anders'... spirit problem lessened as soon as we left Kirkwall for a while.”

Raising his hands, Varric objected while looking at me. “Hey, now. We're in Kirkwall right now. You sure you're fine?”

I had to get him. “Right as rain and fit as a fiddle. Eager to meet new people and blow Templars up. I don't have overwhelming urges... much.” I jerked my head to the side like a tic as I spoke and wondered if there was any way I could get Justice to help with a gag.

_**No.** _

_Spoilsport. Not even if it persuades him that Vengeance is truly gone?_

_**There will be other ways.** _

A quick and wary glance, and Varric laughed when Hawke and I broke out into laughter. “You can stop pulling my leg and tell the story, Blondie.”

Grinning, I continued for Hawke, “We left Kirkwall, avoiding towns pretty much for a while, before visiting some smaller ports along the coast to get passage. Merrill wanted to find another clan that might be able to help what remained of the clan still on Sundermount, so we went to the Dales to look. They'd help if something old was retrieved from the gentle protection of another Varterral like under Sundermount. It had kept them away from an old ruin for many years. Merrill wanted to study after we got it, but Hawke insisted she that get a new set of armor.”

Hawke smacked my arm at that.

The next part got harder for me. “We went east, toward Ferelden, but started having more run-ins with Templars and assassins because Vael offered that bounty on us. Vengeance started getting worse during this, much worse, and Hawke remembered part of the Warden's tale of the Blight.”

“Yes, you know more about that, wouldn't you? You've been holding out, how much?” Varric sounded annoyed.

Frowning, I deliberately fingered my uniform, saying, “Much of it is Warden business and sometimes I wish I didn't know. Some I wish never happened.”

Hawke rubbed my back for a second, and took the story, “Merrill and Anders had used up all our potions and we needed a place to sell things off. So we decided the Chantry couldn't have too strong an influence in Orzammar. We met Sigrun there.”

“She was the one in the Legion of the Dead in my stories of Amaranthine,” I said.

Varric looked surprised. “I kind of assumed she'd died by now. They usually don't live long as the deshyrs are pretty good at ordering them into something fatal.”

Rubbing my back from where I'd been hurt, I shook my head. “She's much more practical and is a little surprised too.”

“She enters Provings and uses them for recruiting. I'm not completely sure how, but she persuaded me to be in a Proving last year,” Hawke said. “Maybe I wanted to compare myself with how the Hero of Ferelden did, when I wasn't a Grey Warden.”

Varric was only half watching us speak because of his notes.

Surprised at Hawke's admission, there was one part I didn't want forgotten. “She hasn't mentioned that there was a _second_ Proving weeks ago where it was much deadlier. We aren't doing any more.”

“Fine. I think I prefer fighting for a better reason.” She looked at Varric again. “I didn't like seeing Dust Town anymore than Alienages. But after we left I was trying to catch rumors to tell us where to go and a whole lot of mercenaries attacked us on a raised section of Tevinter highway. Sebastian hired them.

“They died.”

Hawke got upset at that once in a while, but that was pointless.

“They attacked us and were collecting pay for it. A lot of pay,” I told Varric with a rub of my fingers together for our looting.

“The biggest reason we won was that he had no mages and Merrill and Anders could use their full magic. There were no neutrals or innocents nearby. Sebastian alone survived and had to give his parole. I really didn't want to kill him, but I wasn't going to let him go out and hire a bigger army.” Hawke's frown reassured.

“As soon as he realized we were seeking the Sacred Ashes, he wasn't that hard for Hawke to convince. You might even say he lusted after it when he found out I actually knew more than the common rumor,” It was almost funny when he'd settled into not wanting me dead as much.

A whistle and Varric admitted, “I hadn't quite believed that it had been found during the Blight. Too many things had been credited to the Hero of Ferelden. King and Queen and the Circle had been annulled, Templars should have been happy with her, right?”

“Not completely. Some mages and Templars survived, but the First Enchanter died in the battle, and others were lost to demons or blood magic before the Wardens arrived. Calling it an annulment was probably to pretend they had influence on what the Commander did. I remembered enough from talks in camp to help get us there. Getting in was different from her tale and dangerous.” As much as I had mixed feelings about the Chantry, the Ashes had saved me so I didn't want them harmed.

Hawke grinned, “I think Sebastian was expecting that the Ashes would kill Anders instantly. But Andraste forgave her killers, so I hoped his belief was wrong.”

I grinned as well, as Vael had not been happy about my living. “So, since the Maker didn't smite me, Vael couldn't say I was unworthy of mercy.”

I saw that Varric had a similar doubt as I about that test, but it still granted me a miracle.

“Once Sebastian and Merrill went on their way and winter passed, I wanted to visit where my family lived before the Blight,” Hawke said sadly. “Some Wardens caught up with us and Anders was not given any choice about being under orders again. In Orzammar again, Sigrun wanted to do a Proving with Anders that time. After that, I got a message from Bethany about her being attacked, and so here we are.”

“So, you're on terms with Chantry boy again? I didn't expect that. The cousin seems very set on the throne and the country is doing well after a decade since his father and brothers died. He showed up there for a while right after Kirkwall but disappeared again, and I wasn't sure if he'd been quietly killed by the cousin,” Varric said while thinking. “Where did the Carta attack you, in Orzammar?”

“We'd been there a bit over a month between enhancing my new armor and that Proving,” I admitted, “But they were Carta. So we'd like to see if your contacts have anything about a Carta plan regarding the Hawke ladies. They are a much smaller group to deal with than the Chantry. Ser Mew will be pleased.”

“Ser Mew?” Varric asked with a laugh. “Did you finally get yourself a cat?”

With a snobby sniff, I told him, “Ser Mew Cattinay is a distinguished fellow. He even tolerates a _dog_...”

“I thought it was your brighter half that didn't like cats, Blondie,”

_See, I wasn't the only one to think that!_

_**Your small prisoner serves no purpose.** _

_He makes me happy, I try to make him happy._

_**You take him into danger, and he is more fragile than the mabari.** _

_You are a... a dog person, Justice._ I was horrified that both he and Hawke had that illness.

_**That does not change his fragility.** _

“He thinks cats are too fragile,” I said, knowing I was pouting.

Dera hugged me closer for a moment. “Maybe we can figure something out, or find a foster if you get ordered into the Deep Roads. But I tried to do that for Paws already and he's hard to fool.”

Another reason for me to feel bad, Oriana and Sandal did that for years. But he was surely in Orlais and I hoped she had gone to Ferelden where slavery was less tolerated. “Varric...”

“Despite his love for diamondback, I'm not sure Paws would buy that now.” Hawke didn't sound surprised and her eyes glistened. “He's not a pup anymore, but so few die of natural causes. If we die I'm not sure what he'd do. Bonded mabari choose...”

After the silence Varric said with a rough voice, “He's good company and would be welcome. I could get used to a cat too.”

No one really wanted to talk after that for a bit and we finished our drinks before anyone spoke again.

“Let's see what gossip we have for our errant Champion. Aveline dove right in for restoring order when she returned and trade resumed before the first ships arrived from Orlais. If she'd been interested, she probably could have been acclaimed Viscount before the end of the year. She makes all sides behave and has a fill-in court running, which made workers and traders relax. More Templars under Cullen survived than mages but he allowed some out to heal survivors at the Chantry, after that others injured from the fighting and looting. Within a week, they were still about the only ones allowed out of the Gallows, I still haven't learned who the new first Enchanter is.”

That made my heart ache, I didn't know that many still in the Gallows before. But Orsino's use of blood magic made me wonder how many had resisted and if they had gained anything from my actions. _I failed them._

“Calm down, Blondie.”

I opened my eyes and saw that I was glowing. “We wanted the Karls and Bethanies to have a chance at freedom. We can guess now why the blood mages got out of the Gallows so easily. Something like the Alienage would be a vast improvement.”

“Not that the Alienage should be what it is either,” Hawke growled. “Nor Dust Town.”

“Anders.” Varric used my name, rare enough to get my attention. “At first those mages were escorted by a squad each and they healed or sometimes used magic for rescues of Templars and Chantry. But the squads kept shrinking until it's only two, sometimes a trainee like Kieran. It's continued since then, even if no other policy changes have been announced. There's usually a half dozen mages every day and they haven't exactly been free to chat, but it isn't the same ones all the time. They have set locations: one in Hightown, a few storefronts in Lowtown,... and a clinic in Darktown. Wish I could tell you more about the Circles that fell, but waves of Templars and Chantry still visit here.”

It was a small improvement, but one of the more important ones I'd hoped for. Once I hadn't cared much about non-mages, except as brief candles and means to stay free. That changed when I made friends and didn't have to worry as much about capture. Inside the Circle, we could only face inward in shallow relationship games and study our magic. We couldn't use it for anything real. I sighed. “The Maker's gift.”

“Say, I could use that for a story title.” The dwarf was grinning again.

“What about Fenris?” Hawke asked.

“He does an occasional job, sometimes something for that elven smuggler. He's waiting for something.”

When I looked at Hawke, I knew I wasn't going to be able to avoid meeting him again. Maybe it would be easier with my current alcohol relaxed state. “Alright, let's get this over with.”

Hawke said our goodbyes, by the time we reached the street Justice was restless.

With some drunken giggles Hawke pulled me towards one of the less traveled stairs to Hightown. The narrow stair still had a few chunks that nearly blocked us, but we passed through the archway into the square in front of where the Chantry had been.

That pillar where Vael had shot his arrow wasn't that much taller than the Arishok anymore. Maybe I imagined the smell of the gaatlock. That was stupid; it had to have been washed away with most of the rubble over the last months. There was some scaffolding up the stairs saying they were rebuilding. More importantly, there was a large painted statue of Andraste in the courtyard and a canvas roof over the square that showed patterns to the stitching far overhead. The stairs had the podium and the candles were again gathered at Andraste's feet. An open air Chantry.

It felt much more open and less like a dark cell.

Then I stopped and just looked around. While it lacked the benches of Chantries in Ferelden it didn't feel like before either.

I had mixed feelings about building a new Chantry, they were as corrupt as Tevinter. But I still admired Andraste herself, whether she might have been a mage as rumored or not.

Hawke had stopped too, went to the candles and lit one. Her cautious motions and quiet meant she was still worried about Justice and I.

I squeezed her hand. He... we still believed they were wrong, but I knew of no better answers. Tevinter and Dalish gods were no better and Andraste offered hope even if the Chantry forgot this.

Maybe Hawke was that hope for more than just me. We Wardens had killed far more, even in Amaranthine when fighting the Blight. I pulled her close. I couldn't take it if she lost that last bit of innocence that she tried to befriend even Templars and Chantry, despite me.

But that little bit probably had persuaded Cullen to step back. I pulled her close again for a silent kiss, a promise to myself as well.

I lit a candle as well, that we could do better this time, without Vengeance.

As we turned around to climb the stairs to Fenris' home, I more consciously noted a handful of sisters at various tasks in the near-Chantry and even fewer Templars. For the first time I wondered what they would think if they realized we were right here.

Hawke impatiently pulled me up the stair.

Still a little bemused by our visit to the Chantry, we reached the narrow square that held the door to Fenris' home. Hawke tested the door, and it wasn't locked for long.

We went inside and again I was a little sickened by the debris from decay. A body or two were only bones and the hole in the ceiling was larger.

I'd never liked the elf, but this was too macabre, even for a Warden.

Hawke locked the door again and only sighed when she took in the few low light plants that could grow inside a mostly stone building. I was fairly sure some were Deep Mushrooms. Lady Elegant might pay well for a close supply. Regardless, Hawke moved inward to the central hall.

This room was clearer of wildlife aside from a sapling in the middle. It was growing too well to be an accident and I wondered why. Nothing else had changed, and Hawke climbed quickly towards the Master room that Fenris had claimed.

She knocked.

A puzzled Fenris opened the door, and in wine flavored breath said, “You shouldn't be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	14. Sacred Fires of Liberty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirkwall has changed over the winter and Bethany arrives. Varric's contacts shake a few rats out of the corners.

**Kirkwall, Hightown**

**Hawke:**

I really hadn't expected a Chantry under canvas in the former Chantry square. I never really thought about it. I'd expected they'd import dwarves and maybe even hire former Fereldans from Darktown. Years of steady work and even low pay would be better than Darktown and cat meat.

But I neglected that Andraste gave people hope. Between Anders and I, we had thrown down the ones who gave only lip service to the problems of Lowtown and Darktown. That left no one to give Kirkwall hope.

Staying here was suicide; Sebastian and the Divine would have Marched on Kirkwall. The city didn't need that on top of what Anders did.

_I had to talk to Varric._

After I lit a candle in the Chantry for hope, I was surprised when Anders lit one as well. Afraid his was only for show, I saw his eyes were as solemn as his face.

When we moved to the arched stairway up to the square where Fenris lived, I was almost surprised to notice a handful of sisters and Templars praying or speaking quietly to others. I thanked the Maker that Vengeance made no appearance; I would probably worry about that for a long time, even if I trusted him.

The door of Fenris' home looked unchanged but for a few new scratches, I was a little worried that someone else had moved in, but they'd replace or paint the door. I opened the long familiar lock as he rarely heard any knocking. Inside looked much the same, but the roof holes were larger because some boulders, possibly from the Chantry explosion, settled in with the rotting interior and growing saplings. I was never sure if he'd left things to rot here as a commentary on Kirkwall or Danarius.

I doubted a slave was allowed to be this messy, either, so this was his choice.

When we reached the suite he lived out of, the door was closed, so I knocked.

The door was thrown open as a slightly drunken Fenris told me, “You shouldn't be here.”

About to say something smart-ass, he lunged into a hug that made my ribs creak.

Anders stepped around to meet my eyes, but he seemed surprised too.

“Maybe I'm not here and I'm on some sunny beach in Antiva,” I managed to squeak.

Leaning back a little, he kissed me on both cheeks. “I am glad to see you Hawke.”

I thought I flushed an apple red and returned the hug before he stepped back. He rarely touched anyone. “I'm glad to see you too.”

Anders gave a muffled snicker, but looked innocent when I turned to him.

Fenris looked at Anders too, but his loathing might have been a little weaker on seeing the Grey Warden armor. “Did you steal that armor to hide, Abomination?”

Aggravating each other was an old tune. I didn't have to explain Warden-shit. I could defer to Anders now if I wanted, since he was senior to me and that was everything about Warden rank.

“Of course I did, I got a full set of new Warden mage armor that fits me perfectly and is well enchanted in a market stall in Orlais. They sell them by the thousands to Qunari with the Divine's blessing.” Anders was getting pissed as usual.

 _Was that a snicker I heard from the elf?_ “Anders...” Fenris deserved most of the truth, if not all.

Anders' annoyance shifted into anger and then wide eyed despair. “No, it was issued to me when I was hauled back under orders. They impressed on me consequences for not behaving.”

“Good,” Fenris grunted. “At least your death will serve some value.”

“Fenris.” I thought he was just as pig-headed as Anders. “I'm here because _I was_ attacked by a hired Carta gang, not him. Bethany was attacked inside a Warden outpost by Carta too. Questioning one led back here.”

Fenris swore in Tevinter. “I've heard nothing about that.”

I waved at my cheap dress that rivaled one of Isabela's for brevity. “We're just here to take care of that. Nothing else.”

“There were assassins here looking for _you_ , Hawke. More than just for the mage, ranking Templars and Seekers as well.” He sounded more worried than I'd expected.

“Well, Meredith's putting my statue in heavy armor confused too. How often did I get recognized if I wasn't in my Champion armor?” That was one thing Anders and my near tryst at the _Hanged Man_ earlier had convinced me.

As we leaned against the furniture and drank, we told him about the Dalelands and the ruins we'd seen there. Also that we wintered in a small village. For Orzammar, we only described the lava pools, the hall of Paragons, and the Proving I'd watched with Sigrun.

I didn't mention much about the Wardens other than commenting that some of the other senior ones from Ferelden like Nathaniel Howe didn't wear the uniform either, so Anders hadn't been unique. Anders glowered but didn't explain anything about his interactions with the Warden. I shrugged as if mystified.

Like Varric, Fenris was surprised to see Anders drinking. “I will not tolerate you losing control again, Abomination.” The threat was a little less effective with his still drunken slurring, though he seemed to be trying to pull himself together to say it.

Anders smirked back at him and tugged his earring. “I can carouse _all_ _I want_ , no Warden rule against that.”

I had been taking a swig when I felt the buzz of magic, enough that I dribbled some of my drink. I glared at Anders for a second.

“You both wear earrings.” Fenris spoke as if he was surprised and suspicious at the change.

I sometimes forgot mine and touched it. “Yes, he found them in a smuggler port. Some things were almost funny. We hid in a bilge compartment when our ship was attacked by pirates.”

Anders smirked. “It was Isabela's ship.”

Fenris chuckled and we sat there for a while quietly as our livers pickled. But after some time Fenris looked again at Anders to say, “Why is he here? _He_ never bothered to come before when we drank like this...”

“I was stupid, but that's over,” Anders said with finality.

“My promise holds.” Fenris' growling threat was clear.

I said, “He's going to consult others for anything that isn't self defense or some kind of Warden mission.”

Fenris looked back and forth at Anders and I for a long moment but blearily sighed. “I hope you know what you're doing, Hawke.”

That doubt made me sigh. “Most of the time, I'm pretty sure. Some things change, but I want to make my father proud, protect the people I care for, and help others when I can. That's enough to keep me busy.”

“That seems simple enough, Hawke.”

I had to look at Anders. He was still awake and I didn't feel as drunk as I should have been, either. _An unexpected benefit of my Joining,_ _maybe?_ Fenris was nearly asleep and slipped into the steady breathing of a sleeper.

We left, and I felt nearly sober when we made it back to the outpost. Wardens didn't recognize us, but saw something in Anders or his uniform. That didn't get us any larger a room in this crowded house but we had a door and our pets. Anders fell asleep quickly, holding me close.

I wasn't feeling sleepy after my talk with Fenris. I wasn't about to cry coward for any mistakes I'd made. I did what seemed best for the most innocents aside from one gray, gray mercy. A decision that would have been the end of my heart and any... justice for mages like Karl. How many Karls could the Chantry justify before they were as evil as Tevinter? How many elves were made like slaves,dependent on Alienage 'protection?' If they really believed that Andraste and the Chant was better, why did they force it on people like the Qun did? They sullied the Maker and Andraste with their darkness.

As I drifted to sleep, I wished they could understand that keeping desperate people from fleeing to the Qun would be an easy battle if they put more weight to Andraste's words to the oppressed instead of abusing in their turn.

_\-- x --_

I got restless as we waited those days for Bethany to arrive. I actually wasn't that sure where Ansburg was located, how long travel time was, or how long until she got permission to travel. I hoped it wouldn't be weeks, though I started traveling with some weapons and a few grenades if I went out. 

Anders simmered if he stayed inside, only somewhat calmer when I returned after he'd spent hours with his nose buried in a book. I stayed in most of the time too, only partly to keep him company. Our voices, with stronger Fereldan accents again, would probably be how we'd be recognized here.

Late one night, I decided to go out. Fewer Templars and law abiding locals should be up and about. Maybe I was hoping to run into a few of the less friendly sorts, to handle my tension.

“I'm coming too,” Anders announced as I strapped some daggers onto my dark armor.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“No worse than you going out, love. My appearance has changed more.”

I looked at him, noting his uniform. “Are you bringing a blade or staff?”

He thought for a moment and slung Celebrant on.. “Blade. I don't want to get caught now.”

Finding gangs of thieves or blood mages wandering Kirkwall was a never ending task. I was hoping for fewer blood mages though.

We moved through the city. We found a few muggers in Hightown near the _Rose_ , but avoided the mansion. A gang in the docks broke and ran after two had fallen, maybe when Anders' Warden armor was more visible.

Then we went into Darktown and my feet automatically turned to go to the clinic as did his. Looking over the stairs that led to it, I reached for his hand and we gripped each other before setting forward. We had a few scratches, nothing he couldn't have healed, but it made for an excuse.

We stopped outside the doors, and looked in. Anders stopped at the top of the stairs, and none of my tugging made him step any closer.

He looked at me, his eyes looking lost. “I can't... this was safety and prison. I was me sometimes but in _**the quiet**_ and darkness he whispered _ **to us...**_ of how we _ **could end the**_ hate and pain _ **for good,**_ that it never happen _ **again to another mage...”**_

I looked at the clinic, hearing the murmurs inside and pulled Anders away to a nook near the torches. They were glowing briefly as they'd struggled for words. I pulled him along until I was in the corner and he facing me. 

He clung to me with his face buried in my neck, and he breathed out some of his tension.

I ran my fingers through his hair until his arms around me relaxed. I was having trouble finding any words to help them. “You resisted him for years... you listened to me when you were wrong. You forgave me when I rescued Cullen and when I didn't turn Fenris over to the Magisters.”

He pulled back to look me in the face, his eyes moist. “I'd forgive you anything, love.” His fingers traced the side of my face before leaning forward to kiss me. 

As I pulled his head closer too, I felt warmer as his magic flowed through me. Smiling up at him, I said, “Now what's supposed to be our excuse to visit the clinic?”

He looked back and then gave me a deep kiss. “We don't need an excuse. They don't need me anymore...”

“Anders?”

He looked up involuntarily.

“Velvet, red as blood. Velvet tempting as a whore's kiss,” the woman said with a smirk.

Anders paled, but neither of us could possibly pass as a whore right now.

“What are you doing here, Ser?” The worn-looking woman looked worried behind her smile.

“Elessah? How are Rasa and your husband?” Anders asked.

I answered _her_ question. “We're only here briefly. He wanted to see how you were doing.”

She nodded. “They're fine. It's not safe here. Templars come daily, hoping to hear something.”

“I'm sorry.” Anders straightened up, so that only his grip on my hand was painful. 

Elessah frowned. “Did you kill the Grand Cleric and destroy the Chantry? There were students and orphans there, not just Templars.”

Anders winced. “Yes. A demon influenced me, but I made a stupid decision. I am deeply, deeply sorry that innocents died.”

She looked back to the clinic. “We worried, with how strained you were. I don't think any of us were totally surprised.”

Anders smiled. “I'm much better now, by the grace of Andraste. And Hawke's faith in me.”

I felt my face warm.

“You should be fairly safe down here in Darktown, if not in the clinic. Do you want to come in?”

Anders accepted, and we got a quick tour. There were a few sleeping patients, not ready to leave. A few things had changed locations, but the shelves of potions and notes looked intact and full. He carefully stepped into his 'room,' and collected a few small items.

Anders looked around and he scribbled a couple healing recipes on paper. “Arrange to 'find' these soon. I found them on our travels.”

I added, “We don't know if or when we might return.” 

After that we didn't dawdle, but moved through some of the hidden smuggler ways until I was sure we had no followers. He looked a bit happier to know that his clinic was still open.

I wasn't happy when I heard crying, that kind of despairing sniffling when trying to hold it in, but carried even over the sound of wind and sail. That brought back memories of leaving Gwaren with Carver's dried blood still on me.

I had to know. I gestured at Anders for quiet and moved forward, knowing he'd follow as quietly as he could. Ahead, I found a larger chamber with steep, ancient stairs, salty smells of rot and dead fish wafted down.

Huddled around the stairs was scores of chained people, elves and humans both. I was sickened by those who weren't chained. One woman was in rich Tevinter robes with some kind of male assistant while another half dozen looked like a squad of Carta. They spoke on the suitability of their prisoners, even as I counted how many there were.

It wasn't that many. Three mages at most plus the Carta. But the dwarves might resist magic and this was only Anders and I this time. His best spells would kill the captives and we didn't have time to get help.

I whispered, “Sword,” to Anders when he caught up. I had to hope the other mage would avoid killing her captives. I gestured for a hold until they were counting out money and then gestured a count.

Even as I reached three, I charged forward and I heard Anders charging forward with a shout. 

The richness of the Magister's robes made her an obvious target and her blood began to swirl when I stabbed her. Moving behind her and ducking her staff, I ripped through her spine with my longer Qun blade and the floating blood stopped and fell to the ground in dull splats.

Justice was scything through dwarves, but the assistant was more worried about me and shoved a force spell out and I was pushed away.

Skidding to a stop, I reached for a grenade to stun the second mage when Anders swelled up like a demon, summoning more to overwhelm the dwarves. His flesh disappeared completely and all that was left was the demon flesh. 

I felt like my heart had been ripped out as the electricity flickered around and Anders' golden hair fell away. I was dying as he destroyed the dwarves in explosions of blood. My heart was slowing to a stop as it broke.

Agony in my gut made me turn and my blood began to fly to the second mage. 

He was too close and I tried to move away but flopped to the ground, unable to move.

A bellow from behind and Anders shouted, “Hawke! Don't be dead!”

I felt a little better and not just from some healing when I heard his voice. Rolling a grenade, I scrambled away.

Anders swept the blade one more time without much force and left a fan of ice behind, and cast another spell. There was only two warriors and the mage left.

Applying a bit of poison, I slashed at all of them in a rush as spots kept fading in and out of my vision. I killed the last dwarf. Anders got the rest and I dropped to my knees again.

He was fine. I clung to that thought and remembered some of Merrill's spells.

Anders dropped beside me, checking and healing my injuries before hugging me gingerly. 

Fiercely I squeezed him and made him drink a potion before he collapsed.

He returned it properly then, but said with a hint of a smile, “I have to check the prisoners.”

I let go and we got to work. Without talking about the reasons with each other, we didn't say much to the people we were freeing. I worked on the chains and staples while Anders worked on the injuries. I answered most questions with a shhing gesture; the less they knew the less they could give away accidentally.

We split up the money they were considered worth among them and led them back to the clinic and away from the docks. We left, back to Lowtown. We _weren't_ going out again like this.

We'd spent another evening of the next few with Varric, talking about little things, let alone what I was coming to believe. Mew liked the dwarf, much like everyone else I'd seen. However, we didn't speak about the Chantry, Justice, or the Wardens any more than we had. Those were still sensitive. We were still careful, on both sides. The nice thing was that a Warden half carrying a wench to some Lowtown hovel was nothing very interesting.

_\-- x --_

The Warden on door watch told Anders that Bethany had arrived, and my lack of uniform made me suspicious to her.

I didn't feel like arguing. Older wardens in the common could feel my taint. They didn't like that I wasn't in some uniform. As if I needed any more training to kill darkspawn, and Anders was quite willing to vouch for me there. Still they glared at me and one ordered set of armor for me, or tried.

I blamed my lack of uniform on Cousland's orders. If they could find her, they could complain all they wanted. Since she didn't wear any, nor had Nathaniel or Sigrun, I wasn't going to either, as long as possible.

Or maybe I was staying out of a uniform because Anders _couldn't._

Partway to Bethany's room, I told him, “I think you're handsome in that outfit.”

“That is a good reason to wear something,” Anders admitted, “But I could just buy something blue, too.”

“We could return to you wearing something Chantry or Circle as a disguise...” I mock threatened. “Unless you really liked pretending to _not_ be a mage?”

Anders' shudder was only half faked and he shook his head. “For a time, love, but not forever.”

“And maybe special occasions after that? Once in a while, I wonder what will happen in molting season.” I ruffled the smaller area of feathers on his uniform.

Shaking his head, he towed me along towards the upper floor quarters with a mock growl. 

Once I stood at the door, I was almost afraid to knock. 

So Anders took my hand and he did. At the sound of her voice calling, Anders drew me inside.

Bethany sat there in an under-robe, but my voice was too dry to speak.

Anders spoke over my silence. “Bethany. What do you think of my ball and chain?” He preened in his new uniform.

Bethany was about to reply when she paused and turned towards me with a frown. She squinted and asked me in horror. “Sister, what did you do?” 

I waved my hands helplessly. 

Anders shut the door and took pity on me. “Cousland found us and conscripted her. We had no choice, unless we wanted to fight our way out. So here I am, back in the fold. And Hawke... ” He paused and added, “I'm sorry that...”

Bethany's face hadn't changed but she interrupted. “Shut up, Anders, this is _your_ doing. Why, Sister?”

The short answer, I thought obvious and waved at Anders. “We needed allies and a chance to not be killed out of hand. Wardens take murderers, no one can argue that we aren't most excellent killers...”

I had to stop as I feared becoming that, and Anders tightened his grip on my hand.

“...we're supposed to recruit, especially recruit mages who want out of the war. Cousland offered this as her subvert support, when the First Warden wants to stay neutral. We can hide among other Wardens. We can hide in the Deep Roads now, since I'm now safe from Blight sickness.”

Gruffly, Anders said, “I've been afraid of that for years, ever since the Bartrand's expedition and what happened to you. Afraid there wouldn't be any Wardens nearby for all those times we went underground. I really didn't know how Aveline survived.”

“And of course,” I said with a small smile, “I think he's finally convinced that he wasn't going alone on his Calling, whether I'm a Warden or not.”

That got a weak smile from my sister. “I wish I could have found someone. Few of us do, after the Joining. And fewer manage to preserve previous relationships.”

“Kristoff did,” Anders said authoritatively. “It lasted past his life, actually.”

Poking Bethany's arm, I said, “And you thought Anders wouldn't last.”

“I didn't doubt that for long,” my little sister said with a smirk. 

Grinning at Anders, I said, “Well, I didn't know about that. He was very stubborn about going beyond an occasional flirt. It was closing on four blasted _years_.”

That got Anders to flush and Bethany to snicker.

“I even visited the _Rose_ a few times, but that was pointless,” I gave Anders a mock glare. “I'm not sure if I did that because I wanted to _have_ to visit Anders like Isabela did.”

“Thank the Maker you didn't, Hawke, I... don't know what I would have done,” he admitted, still pink.

I suspected I might have pushed, though I'd been more afraid of sending him away. Time for the reason for this journey. “The Carta who came after us were based here. Varric is checking his sources. As soon as he gets anything, I'm going after them. Do you want to come, Bethany?”

“Yes.” Bethany sounded both relieved and offended. “We can even call Anders an honorary Hawke and say it's a family trip, right?”

Anders smirked. “If I'm going to be an adopted or long lost cousin, does that mean I can pester you like an older brother about who you're seeing?”

Flushing, my sister said, “No, you cannot. Not that I'm seeing anyone lately. You know how it is, Anders.”

“Yes. We didn't have that many people at the Vigil after the fighting. And your sister is not going to learn.” He pulled me closer.

I always found it amusing when he did that, as casual as he liked to appear.

Bethany stood and moved to her equipment. “I wish you weren't dressing like that, Aldera. Mother would be ashamed.”

That woke an old pain. “She never approved of much after your Joining and Carver's death.” _I had to live without_ _her_ _approval_ _s_ _ince Papa died._ The anger I stomped on. Mother and I had said goodbye, but that hadn't healed the years.

“She wanted you to settle down and have a family, like she and Father did.” Bethany wanted that too.

“Well, Papa told me I had to take care of you all.”

“You could have found someone...” Bethany slowed as she remembered the likelihood of children for us.

I turned to look back up at Anders and smile. I had found him, and I wouldn't trade him for anyone, spirit and all. “There wasn't much safety or time in Kirkwall. No one wanted a waddling Champion or one with a toddler. There was no one else to work for the city as a whole, with how well the Viscount did. Charade's my heir after you and she's a decent sort.”

His voice gray, Anders said, “As if we could have settled in Kirkwall to have a family even before Meredith lost it, or my problems.”

“You made _your own_ problems. You should have known better to accept a spirit's offer.” Bethany wasn't as forgiving now as she was after Karl.

Anders, paused and glowed briefly, and it wasn't clear which of them was more upset.

This was akin to kicking a beaten puppy and I was angry at my sister.

“That's water under the bridge. Justice was cursed by a demon and exiled here, possibly dying.” I had to pause as that wasn't my secret. “We saw records of another with a spirit who didn't corrupt the mage so that ending was _not_ guaranteed. Unless Carver sowed some wild oats, the Hawke line _ended_ in Kirkwall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The chapter title is inspired by a quote by Washington. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	15. Wasteland Activity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric's contacts lead Hawke into the Vimmark winderness, where not just dwarves are waiting for them.

**Vimmark Wasteland, Carta Outerworks**

**Hawke:**

 

Varric didn't take that long to start getting information, only a very few days after Bethany reached Kirkwall. We remained within the Warden post with Anders healing any Wardens, until we visited Varric's suite to gossip about Tevinter rumors. Aveline and Donnic came one evening while we'd played some Diamondback. Paws was the only one really playing well. 

She took me over to the side when I folded one hand with a determined look on her face. “I saw Fenris before you returned. He didn't ask about you, Hawke. Not like Varric did or even the Seekers. What happened after I returned to Kirkwall last year?”

The room got unnaturally silent, and I could hear the usual crowd downstairs. I hadn't wanted to remember it. Anders drank from his mug deeply and pretended to be looking at his cards. Varric's face had stilled.

Aveline was not going to like the story, and it still hurt too much for me to completely laugh it off. They didn't even have the excuse of an insane spirit in their heads. I looked at Anders again. I realized I hadn't forgiven them as much as I'd thought. I'd only managed to stuff it away.

At her suddenly suspicious glance, I waved towards our story teller. I couldn't tell this story; it would hurt less to bleed on her. Anders gripped his mug.

Varric closed his eyes briefly, and told a dry version of what happened. It was accurate, and held no humor in the telling.

Aveline demanded angrily, “At least Vael was open about his hatred, and Fenris was no surprise. But you knew Hawke the longest. You struck after the rest of us left, after I left!”

I found the words. “Let it go a bit. I was angry too, if not for exactly the same reasons.”

Varric simply sat there, while Aveline fumed and then finally sat down and drank from Anders' mug.

Once we'd all reached mellow, Varric told of the first lead, that the Carta had some kind of base well away from the city. We really hadn't spoken about who was going, but no one claimed other business. I don't know if they missed our company or the adventure... or simply that Fenris didn't trust Anders as much as before. It seemed we'd all go. 

Aveline and I spoke about returning Carta gangs behind us and that I didn't want two forces around us. I would have preferred if Merrill or Sebastian were still around, but I didn't know any other markers I had that still had any value.

We left early the next day, with a brief stop for me to change armor again, my Champion armor was still the best I owned. Anders' Warden armor was nearly as good as his black, he only changed weapons. He still wanted out of the blue and gray. A couple of Aveline's archers were round eyed when mine sank in, but they didn't attack. 

The path wasn't on a trade route. Still it was used regularly enough for the mountains that we had little problem following it. Why the Carta might want a base this far away bothered me too.

A day and more through the mountains around the city, the terrain was plain unfamiliar in this direction. Late that day, we'd caught sight of something large and not part of the natural mountainside, something built. We made a spare camp, planning to go in early in the morning, with Aveline training her men at dawn first.

Anders could not be convinced that he had to leave Ser Mew behind, no matter how many of us spoke. I didn't try too hard as Justice was probably arguing too. 

Looking in the morning, it was definitely a fortress of some kind, old, so very old by the strangeness of the design. 

Fenris glared at it. “It resembles Tevinter construction slightly, just as older parts of Kirkwall do.”

At the top of a rise, Varric said, “That it does. The Carta's base away from home and profit. Can't say why they came out here. It's just not that useful for their usual profit areas. They aren't usually stupid enough to attack Hawkes, you gutted their operations near enough before. I don't know why they'd attack you. They aren't likely to go after Vael's cheap bounty and the Chantry often doesn't pay up.”

“My attackers were bold, Varric,” Bethany frowned. “They snuck into the Grey Warden keep at Ansburg to find me. The commander was alarmed that they'd found an old entrance that had been sealed for centuries.”

“They failed at Hawke or you, thank the Maker.” Fenris sounded cross and looked at a scuff on his foot.

“Perhaps chasing bounty hunters is not the wisest move,” Aveline said wryly, looking at her husband.

When we'd gathered to leave I'd been surprised both of them came along. Not Aveline, she was still ticked at Fenris and Varric a little. 

“Maybe not,” I agreed. “But I don't think ignoring them is the answer either.”

Anders stayed quiet since we'd left the city. “I just don't like that they're hunting _you,_ Hawke. I wanted the blame on me, not you.”

“You failed at that, mage.” Fenris bristled again.

“Enough.” I had no doubt he was willing to die for that, but even looking back there were few alternatives. Meredith, Elthina, and Orsino were poisonous. “The Carta didn't seem to care about what happened in Kirkwall.”

Varric spoke with faint humor. “They are acting oddly. If this is their hideout, my sources couldn't tell me anything else.”

“Your sources?” Aveline snorted her disbelief. “You have that many in the Carta, do you?”

“As far as my contacts in the Carta know, they shouldn't be here. There there's no business or targets. There shouldn't even be a here,” Varric admitted. “This place is invisible. A big blind spot on the map. Bianca's never been this suspicious, and she's twitchy to start with.”

“What do we matter to the Carta?” Bethany asked with a small whine unheard in years. “I just want them to stop trying to kill us.”

Paws nosed her side.

“A fine point, Sunshine. So what's the plan, Serrah Hawke?” Varric asked me.

“There must be some reason why they're attacking us. At least we can deal with the one pulling the strings from here. I intend to find out and stop it.” I didn't doubt this would cost in blood. 

“Right. Only one way to do that,” Varric said gruffly, pulling his crossbow off his back.

Bethany seemed surprised at his reaction, “So we're just going to walk in and start killing?”

I could feel the muscles knot on my forehead, and traded a glance with Anders. He looked unsettled too. This wasn't the experienced Warden my sister seemed the other times I'd seen her.

Varric's voice was soothing. “Don't worry, Sunshine. The bloodstains come out.”

“At least **my** Warden Commander finally let me come,” Bethany said with a sigh and a side glance at Anders and me.

Mustering up a grin, Anders admitted, “I have my orders. Just because my Commander's more rank than yours.”

I interrupted as this didn't matter here. “We need to go in, before some group comes from the city to tell them we're here.”

Aveline frowned at that. “We'll watch your back, Hawke. No one will come in after you.”

Kneeling, I asked Paws, “Can you stay and help Aveline, boy? Think of it as another training exercise.”

He didn't look happy, but he liked Aveline so that helped. Aveline and I traded looks, both remembering our earlier conversation on his aging after the Chantry.

“If you need me, Hawke, I'll... we'll be keeping watch.” Aveline warned us as we left the defensible causeway. “Try not to get yourselves killed.”

These ruins were a more barren piece of rock than even parts of the Frostbacks. There were more of us now, though. Bethany and I were the targets. Anders. Varric and Fenris.

Speaking with a sober Fenris was more brittle than it'd ever been before. He was here, but I wasn't sure why, with the way he watched Anders and me in a deeply suspicious mood. He watched Bethany less, and only seemed to relax the tiniest bit with Varric. Still, he took point with me as we moved closer to the buildings. 

I didn't want to call it a fortress, even if it looked big enough. A fortress protected cities or strategic locations but this area wasn't even close to a road. What good was its protection if no one knew about it? Varric was right, this was very strange. Keeps were expensive to build. Who built a keep this close to Kirkwall, but left no trace in what records or tomes I'd seen in my years in the city? It wasn't even close enough to the city to help with a March or Qunari invasion.

As we got closer, we stumbled on a small group of dead dwarves on a switchback in the trail. Dead dwarves and even a bronto, something I'd not seen much of above ground. The level on the hilltop had junk from earlier battles, or simply left behind. There wasn't anything useful for our purpose, no answers, not that I was surprised.

After we looked around, I said, “I suppose we could take this as a warning...”

Varric shook his head, saying, “Most people would, but you?”

“Aren't we here after dwarves? Why would they kill _their own_?” Fenris asked, sounding a little troubled.

“Broody, these don't look like Carta. My guess would be Merchants' Guild, whose greed outweighs their caution, like most of 'em,” Varric said after examining the clothing on the one body. “Being a dwarf doesn't save you from a Carta shiv.”

Sounds were echoing through the rock canyons oddly. I heard noise as if someone was beside me, but there wasn't.

Anders whispered, “I don't see anyone throwing flower petals, do you think they are expecting us?”

After a few more minutes of careful advance over a worn trail, Bethany said in an excited whisper while pointing further ahead, “Look, the Carta have people watching for us.”

I felt immeasurably older than my sister; of course forts or hideouts had perimeter guards.

Anders was still amused. “Then I guess we're not alone.”

Fenris answered almost as fast, “They will alert others to our presence,”

Looking around us, I reminded them both, “We are not letting ourselves be lured in too fast so they can more easily surround us. We can retreat to where Aveline is too, she'll just glare at them.”

Moving forward, the sounds of movement and whispers echoed. When I looked at Fenris, he heard them too, so this wasn't the whispering I knew to expect in Deep Roads. Still it sounded like Carta rats scurryed around us in the gullies and washes.

Stepping into an open area between the huge columns of a gate, bones and remnants of old battles scattered across the ground. 

Varric spoke jokingly. “There's a lotta decorative skulls, Hawke. I don't think we're welcome at all.”

No one else laughed but Mew.

When we passed through a hall of open air columns, at the far end was a Carta-dressed dwarf in an almost friendly stance.

When we got closer, he spread his arms as if to welcome us. “Both sisters! You're here together! You've come!”

Not only was his tone of voice very odd, but his eyes were cloudy. _Could dwarves get lyrium addled?_

Bethany asked, sounding confused, “Is... he referring to you and me?”

I couldn't resist looking at her, wondering if the Wardens had dropped her on her head. Anders and Varric were watching the dwarf, while Fenris was listening to my sister.

The Carta shouted to the sky like it cared. “Everyone! It's the children of Malcolm Hawke! They've come to us.” His shout echoed through the stone work and gullies; it was sure to warn others.

“What does my father have to do with this?” I demanded. I'd prefer he was lyrium addled because they were harmless, but he was talking nonsense.

“It began with him and ends with you! Blood to blood, that's what we were told,” the Carta dwarf insisted, in some kind of blind faith in someone's word. 

“Dwarves don't need blood for anything. That's just stupid, a human thing. It's not like blood magic does anything useful or we get any benefit,” Varric objected.

“Did... father do something to the Carta?” my sister asked.

I could believe that, as he taught me some sneaky things. About to mention my doubts, when the dwarf interrupted me. “You've come to us now and that's the only thing that matters!”

Waving my hand in the vain hope he'd settle, I said, “I just came here to clear up why the Carta's attacked us.”

He shouted like it would convince anyone. “For the blood! We must have it!”

 _Now that's plain idiotic..._ and I bared my teeth. “I hope you don't mean my blood. I'm still using it, you nug's bastard.”

“We will take it! Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!” the nutcase proclaimed, as if we had any reason to care. 

I muttered, “They just don't have your skills at conversation, Varric.”

He didn't bother replying and lay down a covering fire.

Other dwarves had moved into view and they'd attacked at his exclamation; archers on far platforms did as well. The closer ones died quickly enough, but the archers had plenty of time to shoot us before Fenris and I could close.

Fenris was snarling more than I recalled in combat.

When we finished the last archer and paused to catch our breath, I looked at him, even if he wouldn't meet my eyes. “What's wrong, Fenris?”

“Why?” he said while still looking at the ground.

The others were crossing the rubble strewn area more cautiously. Anders was taking care of Bethany, who always rushed too far forward for my comfort, while Varric was checking the bodies they passed.

I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. “Why I asked you along?”

Fenris barely nodded.

Not really wanting to discuss this with the others present, I had to speak quickly, “Maybe I'm a connoisseur of betrayal. But yours wasn't as painful as his, and if I could forgive that... But like I warned him, I don't think I could again.”

Finally raising his eyes, he said, “It will not happen again.”

Worried a little about him showing his throat, I asked, “You know I don't mind you objecting, even pushing Anders sometimes. I value your opinions, even if I'll never agree that all mages are bad.”

Fenris chuckled finally. “Yes, you would believe that with your sister. I don't think you realize how rare mages like her are. Even the abomination is softer than Magisters.”

“I am not squishy,” Anders objected with a smirk. “I am a Grey Warden, see the jaunty armor?”

“As if armor indicates value,” Fenris spat.

Varric interceded with a grin, “It is odd to see Blondie in that armor like Sunshine. Hawke's Champion armor matches yours, Broody. I don't need anyone matching mine, I have Bianca.”

“I don't like his ranting about someone they want to free.” I looked at my quiet sister and added, “We plan on keeping our blood.”

“We all like the Hawke ladies' blood where it is,” Varric said with a bow. 

Anders moved closer to me. “I cannot like this about prisons in darkness. That this Corypheus wants blood to get free is not acceptable.”

“Of course it is acceptable, to mages,” Fenris stated angrily.

Standing close to me, Anders put his arm around me and threw Fenris a raspberry. Even Bethany looked at the elf crossly.

For once, he flushed. Maybe he expected Anders to take the bait, and while Anders' grip was firm almost to the point of pain, I was glad he didn't.

Putting a smile on my face I had to say, “Well, some of them had their hoods so low, I don't think they even saw Fenris or me clearly.”

“Next, they will imitate paragons of manliness and drop the large hoods. They won't do any worse,” Varric smirked.

“Anders, do you know why their eyes were cloudy? I thought that was usually something Templars had,” I was bothered by the whole idea of dwarven Templars.

“I don't know, love. Usually either lyrium or magic is involved. I've never even seen...” Anders stopped speaking, but I didn't know what he was thinking.

“Hawke, are you sure you don't have any idea why the Carta's after you?” Varric prodded me. “I'm not sure why attacking you out here would even get them your blood,”

I really didn't think they were rational at all. “Oh, I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Later we'll all have tea and laugh merrily.”

Smacking his forehead theatrically, Varric exclaimed, “Oh, your name is Hawke? I thought it was Locke!" 

I joined in on his laughter and heard Anders snicker once too.

“I can't believe you are joking about this,” Bethany complained, exasperated with all of us.

Well, all of us but quiet Fenris.

“Don't worry, Sunshine. Our laughter just hides the pain. I hate it when businessmen lose their perspective,” Varric said.

A ramshackle gate went into a wall, that had visible platforms for archers, even if there were no battlement walls to give them cover. No archers were visible either and the gate opened easily. Once inside it wasn't the inner courtyard of some keep, but a killing zone, with archer platforms on all sides.

Before I could do much more than notice the archers on two sides, a bronto of all things, appeared from the middle archway. This was not the quiet ones I'd seen on the Deep Roads expedition, but something more like the angry bulls of a farming village.

“Scatter!” I shouted, planning how to get behind it.

Anders and Bethany stayed near the entrance under a portion of the archers' ledge. Fenris charged forward after I threw a grenade and attacked the head. I wanted to hobble it before anything else.

Arrows grazed me and I had to choose which side of archers to go for instead. Varric was running to the one ramp, making me wonder what he was thinking. Curly chest hair was not that protective, so I ran after him.

The warriors up on the platform were attacking him when I stabbed them, one after another in sprays of blood. “Varric, whenever I say, 'let me take care of things,' you don't have to ignore it like this.”

“Hawke, I just want to make sure you feel needed,” he said with a smile as he pinned one archer in a bad stance.

A fireball from below got only the archers, before I closed. The last one was frozen and I waved down at Anders before running towards the other platform where Fenris was fighting several warriors. By the time the last was dead, everyone in our group had arrived.

I started looking around after looting the one I'd just killed. The Carta lout wasn't nice enough to have a detailed diary explaining everything I wanted to know. Next to the body was a lever, one that wasn't very hidden.

Curious, I looked down into the yard, and pulled the lever. Clanking below the platform sank down further into the ground, and a forest of spears rose up through the stone dust below the circling platforms. If we'd stayed in the middle, we would have been skewered.

“Maker,” I could barely say as I imagined that if we'd still been down there.

“Love?” Anders said, coming over only soon enough to see the last row of spears disappear. He echoed my oath.

Calling the others over, we tested that the lever reset each time.

“Why did they not use it?” Bethany sounded worried.

Anders got angry. “Remember, Hawke? The Carta in Orzammar wanted you alive but didn't want Sigrun or I alive.”

“Sigrun would surely be a loss to the Wardens...” Fenris observed with a wry smile.

“We don't have to discount that they're insane,” Varric laughed. “They used an _attack_ bronto, isn't that enough? Those things are slow to train.”

Hugging herself, Bethany wondered, “Dwarves after us for our blood. But, why?”

I held her arm. “That's a good question, but we'll get through this.”

Anders laughed. “Deranged dwarves, we can now check that off the list.”

He was forcing cheer in his voice, but I doubted Bethany would realize.

“Hey, we can't let humans have all the insanity fun,” Varric said. “All those cackling Templars and blood mages, they had all the dramatic delivery when we faced them. You utterly failed to deliver any stirring lines for me to work with, Hawke.”

“I am _so sorry,_ Varric. I'm a little too busy trying not to get killed. If you can convince them to stop trying to kill us long enough, I could read off something from one of your books,” I told him with an over-sweet voice.

“That's okay, Hawke. Your enemies never have any sense of the dramatic,” Varric said sadly. “What I don't understand is that the Carta doesn't normally act like this. They're businessmen.”

I wanted to know who this 'Corypheus' is. We needed to find answers around here somewhere. Checking the crates and stray bags didn't tell me anything. But back in the dry gulch was a marker that Bethany called us to.

When I read it, the old language felt stilted about a dwarven warrior chosen to guard for the rest of his life. Guarding to defend against Stone-tainting Malvernis.

 _Did dwarves think things were holy?_ I couldn't think of any who became zealots over the Maker, and the paragon statues and stories didn't sound holy in Orzammar.

Varric muttered, “Amgeforn...”

“What was that?” Anders asked quietly.

“Amgeforn is old dwarven for sacrifice,” Varric explained. “That's not a reassuring name, for an exile's duty so far from the Stone.

Trying to cheer his unusual moodiness, I pouted, “We never go anywhere nice, do we?”

That got me a chuckle, but Bethany asked, “What's that at the end? 'Vellos...”

“Valos Atredum, in the old language, but still used on newly forged weapons,” Varric said as he traced the words on the monument, quietly. “It means favor of the Ancestors, maybe showing them your worth, probably both. Clans and individuals could fall into death or exile so quickly if they screwed up their honor before the Stone, or just got unlucky.”

I didn't want to break his thoughtful mood.

Bethany asked, “Who was Ilona?”

“Paragon, and not recent,” Varric shrugged. “I know some only by name, only the Stone remembers them after enough centuries.”

We carefully went behind the other platform, looking for more recent clues about the Carta's plans. There wasn't much in the crates, dried biscuits and other less useful things. But there was another monument.

Converging on it, I started reading it as we jostled for a better angle to read. Seeing the title at the top made me sad as well, that one of these honored warriors called the surface a wasteyard.

_**Amgeforn the Wasteyard** _

_**You who must serve beneath the empty sky, you stand between this Poison and the Stone. The Ancestors will remember when all others have forgotten your name.** _

_Would anyone remember my name?_ I was Champion or I was Hawke. Varric's tales of me might last, but that wasn't me in them but someone so much bigger and purer. Purer what, I didn't see when I looked.

… _**Remember your oath. It must endure even beyond death itself. Be vigilant.**_

“That... almost sounds like some of the Warden oaths,” Bethany said quietly.

“Oaths are serious stuff, Sunshine. I suppose they all sound the same when it's important enough,” Varric said, while looking up at the sky for a moment.

_**If the Pestilent One awakens, you will know it by these signs: The air will fill with the scent of putrefaction. You will hear a sound like the cadence of drums. Malvernis the Defiler will try to weaken your will and compel you to bear the orb out of Amgeforn, but you must hold fast.** _

“Ah, the usual warning of doom and gloom. Why use the word 'rotting,' when they can use a bigger word? Some dwarves should be kept away from word-books,” Varric sounded irritated.

Anders suggested, “That name doesn't quite sound like a demon's. _**Their names reflect their natures.**_ ”

Drawing his blade, Fenris snapped, “Abom...”

Justice stood there glowing, simply staring at the glowing warrior. _**“I fought with a great sword in Amaranthine and Blackmarsh. Test us if you doubt, after this mission.”**_

That calmer response startled Fenris, and I stepped between them, though I wasn't worried about Justice. I wondered if he might be testing Fenris.

“Whatever this Malvernis is or was, we should be able to talk about any clues...” I insisted, as arguing was fine, but beyond that was not, and Justice was being civil.

Fenris made another rude noise, but sheathed his blade when Bethany put her hand on his shoulder.

Anders took my hand and squeezed, back to normal. “We don't like this compelling the reader to carry away an orb from here, this exile posting. It stinks of mind control and blood magic.”

He sounded annoyed that Fenris would have another reason to complain, but, thank the Maker, Fenris resisted for once.

_**This is the sacred duty that cannot be forsworn lest the Stone fall to poison and death.** _

“Even more, this sounds like Wardens,” Bethany sounded surprised by it.

Varric was amused. “Not that many of my people or Broody's in the Wardens.”

With a slow smile, Anders told him, “If you really want to, Varric, I know someone, that knows someone, who knows someone... then you can have all the Grey Warden adventures you can take, and more. But it doesn't mean you get a long life.”

“You think I really expect that, with following Hawke around?” Varric laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	16. Forbidding Prospect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders learns that these Carta are crazy and not in a good way.

**Vimmark Wasteland, Carta Outerworks**

**Anders:**

This complex looked dwarven-built, like thaigs along the Deep Roads and most of Kirkwall. I hadn't planned to mention to Hawke that Alistair had taught a Templar combat skill or two to Oghren. That was when Justice had taken an interest as they'd been similar to the skills he'd originally had. 

I remembered being more than a little annoyed when anyone attacked with those skills when I was trying to do some healing.

_**Those skills seemed to draw a little upon the Fade. The drunkard did not a** _ _**ccomplish as much** _ _**as the Senior Warden or I.** _ _**He lacked the discipline and focus.** _

Little annoyed Justice more than being unfocussed, except being drunk. This topic was giving me a headache. Those bits of battle mage theory I'd studied seemed to overlap with Justice's Fade abilities, and his with Templar skills. I just didn't have the muscle to fight as he had. He was glad to act without those bloodmage-like spells Vengeance left behind. I really did not want to think about this. I remembered using the energy drain on emissaries now and a certain satisfaction that 'I' had done a smite as well as Alistair.

_I was a mage, I shouldn't be able to smite myself._

_**I do not think you are using any battle mage abilities. We swing the sword. Blades and justice have ever been entwined within the Fade. This simplifies your understanding of the skill relationships then, as the Templar skills intersect with mine well.** _

That made me smile. Maybe the first Templars learned them from another escaped spirit, and they need the lyrium to get the Fade energy. I remembered that the lyrium-addled Templar eyes looked cloudy like Justice's had in Amaranthine. It really was too bad I couldn't afford to research the question.

“What makes you smile like that, Abomination?” Fenris asked suspiciously.

Even that didn't destroy my amusement. “Just considering theory with Justice. We're having a lively debate about the origins of those pesky Templar abilities, which would make for almost divine irony.”

“Now that sounds like a fun topic. Was it resolved?” Varric moved up for speaking.

I felt my grin get smugger. “Yes, short of stealing a look at the Divine's archive. Give us time and we'll figure out how Fenris' abilities fit in too.”

Fenris spat. “I can't really care, with all the pain they cause me. I'd sooner never have gotten them.”

That was like a slap in the face. 

Then I felt ashamed. When had I cared that much about his pain other than returning him to full health after a battle, only because it was important to Hawke?

“I'm sorry, Fenris.” Bethany sounded like she meant it. “Maybe we can find a way to make it more bearable at least.”

Surprised, Fenris smiled slightly at her.

Hawke was watching out of the corner of her eye and reached back when I turned back to her. I grasped her hand, feeling better just for that, as I moved closer to look at the marker again. Mew kneaded my shoulder, making me relax more.

I had to be concerned with these markers left by ancient dwarven craftsmen. If the Carta wanted help with this, why not ask Hawke? She might demand some kind of payment or favor, but she'd still do it if she thought it a good idea. Maybe they thought threats would work on her.

Hawke bent over to examine the aged metal plate that held the warning. “How many generations of warriors came to the surface to stand guard here? And why is that making me nervous?”

“Because they forgot, Hawke. The Stone remembers, maybe, but whatever they guarded isn't here anymore...” Varric paused. “Shit, Hawke, now I'm nervous. Was it freed, or is that what these Carta want freed?”

Hawke rubbed her forehead and I sent a touch of healing just for her smile.

“So this is the outer parts of a dwarven prison?” Fenris said carefully.

Varric looked grim. “These are Carta. Did they guard this place once and became businessmen once they got used to the surface? Or did they come in after the last guardians died? What happened to those warriors?”

“Maybe we'll find out,” Hawke said with a grin. “That can make your next epic.”

Moving inward through a channel, we spotted another marker, in an equally odd location along the side of the trench.

Even before we reached it, Varric tsked and lamented, “This is a sad, stupid place to put either a memorial or a warning. What were they drinking?”

“The swill from your tavern, Varric,” Fenris stated.

I had to cough. _Fenris made a joke?_ Hawke snickered, and Bethany laughed.

“Cheap swill is what the patrons want. The good stuff is in my suite,” the dwarf admitted grandly. “Many can't tell the difference.”

Fenris read the next one out loud, to which Hawke grinned at first. Her grin didn't last.

_**Amgeforn the Foul** _

_**We called it Malvernis. The Pestilent One. It devoured thaigs, turning out fairest work into a noxious waste. It consumed living warriors, turning their bodies to slime, and when its hunger was not abated, it consumed the bones of our ancestors.** _

_**Foulness came from its touch, poison and filth and desecration. It threatened even the Stone itself. the Shapers bound it. Chained in lyrium stained with the blood of a hundred warriors.** _ **But within the orb, it hungered, it waited.**

Fenris paused briefly when speaking of lyrium chains and his markings flared enough that I could feel them. Justice took an interest. 

I wondered how the Shapers could do this if warriors could not fight it. The Shaperite seemed more like scholars. “How do Shapers do that, Varric?”

“Beats me. Nothing in the tales I know explain how the Shaperite does anything. My mother told me nothing.” Varric sounded annoyed and perhaps a little frustrated.

“Chained in lyrium? That doesn't sound good.” Hawke shivered and then wondered, “Stained lyrium, doesn't this remind you of that artifact, Varric?”

“As far as I ever heard from dwarves and Wardens, lyrium is supposed to be bright blue like Glowy,” Varric said while absently patting the rune in Bianca.

Bethany spoke up. “Which of us is Glowy, Varric?”

“Not me!” Hawke exclaimed, putting her hands up to ward away the idea. “I've never glowed.”

I wasn't about to remind her of Orzammar.

Looking at me, his face getting a little cautious, Varric said, “Anders' spirit.”

 _ **He names me?**_ Justice sounded puzzled and surprised.

_I think he does that with people he likes, Justice. It sounds like he's decided you're okay for some reason, despite his earlier anger with us._

_**I do not like being called this 'Glowy.'**_ _ **I am Justice.**_ Cross, but not angry, this mood was still a new thing to me.

_You be sure to tell him that sometime, it will probably change your nick-name about as much as Fenris has managed over the years._

Justice only grumbled at me for that.

“Whatever it is, it is certainly not a mortal creature, but some kind of demon or abomination that doesn't age.” Fenris' lip had to be curled, from that tone of voice.

“I've aged, Fenris,” I had to sigh. “Joining with a spirit does not prevent that.”

“He is a Grey Warden too, and we do not often survive long,” Bethany said with a glare.

I wondered if she'd been told the story of the siege at Soldier's Peak. Thinking about it, I realized she would not. Marchers wouldn't care much about a rebellion in Ferelden. That siege and its two survivors that the Warden found, abomination and blood mage, would not have been taught to her by Stroud. Following orders and avoiding politics were their only priorities. 

They would not want newer Wardens to know about that still-living Warden. It doesn't fit the code we were supposed to live and die by. I wasn't that happy with it either, that the blood mage had been the defender against the abomination, or that he still lived. I should pass that on when it was only Wardens.

“At least we know that we need to watch for orbs,” Hawke said finally before reading again.

_**We carried it here in the wasteland of the surface, where it can threaten nothing of value. The Stone will live. The Stone must live. We have sworn to defend it from the Foul One at any price.** _

Hawke objected, “Hey, the surface has very nice things like sunshine and birdsong.”

“Don't look at me, I value surface things like _me_ very much,” Varric agreed.

“Cold bastards that care only about themselves seem to appear in all the races,” I had to say.

Hugging herself, Bethany said, “This area does look like a wasteland.”

“But it is not. Plants and vermin are here in the dust, even at this elevation. Spring comes,” Fenris said to Bethany.

Hawke moved closer to me. “What I can't decide is if this Malvernis on these plaques is the same as Corypheus? Something that fouled even rock doesn't sound like someone Carta would worship.”

“Could be, Hawke,” Varric admitted. “But how often do people like that do the smart thing and change their names? Did you?”

I had to smile at his fishing. “Why yes, we did. Though it becomes pointless when fighting spiders or darkspawn.”

He'd probably figure it out at some point, but better we kepr it quiet.

We walked through the stone culvert, though wooden scaffolds and huge, barely shaped pieces of rock. Passing through an opening, we saw a free-standing chamber a distance away, only a little higher than us. There was stone between us and the chamber.

“And there something is,” Hawke said as the immense structure became visible through the nearly unworked stone outcroppings. She shook her head a little. “I don't see a bridge from here.”

Bethany seemed surprised again. “A fortress? Here in the middle of nowhere?”

“They said about locking the prison orb for this Malvernis, but it looks huge,” Hawke worried. “How big an orb were they talking about?”

“Those almost look like all the dwarven statues I've seen in every thaig, but we're not close,” I tried to guess scale of the building from a distance. 

“Don't look at me, I like daylight and wheat. This wasn't supposed to be here according to my contacts _and_ maps,” Varric grumbled.

Moving cautiously closer, the one building in the way was a landing for a stone stairway, moving down and roughly towards the building. Dry dust seemed to blow across the barren soil and it was too quiet for a living base. A dwarf sprang out of hiding and ran off. Varric muttered about the range and cover, but we were ready.

Hawke waved us back and started in front. I never liked it, but she disarmed traps and I couldn't. We moved down several flights as she did. The next set of stairs opened into another dusty yard as I petted Mew. No one was visible since we'd seen that dwarf who ran ahead of us earlier. I didn't need Hawke's wave to hold back, though Fenris moved closer.

I stopped a pace back from the first step, as did Varric. Bethany was poised to take that first step down, where her sister and Fenris had already cautiously gone down a third of the steps. This smelled like an ambush but we were all experienced.

Looking around, my eyes were drawn to what looked like that chamber on the top of a tower, a tower set down inside a mountain valley, some unknown depth below us. It was large enough it could have been a Circle tower top, but I'd never heard of one this far away from Templars. 

_Why would dwarves build a Tower?_ They built down. Even surface dwarves like Varric didn't admire towers, from what I'd seen. Buildings for other groups didn't get Paragons on the dome either.

Hawke moved another step down, Fenris a step behind.

A roar came from ahead, and an enraged bronto was getting ready to charge. Hawke and Fenris reached the ground in a rush, to meet it and stop it from trampling us on the stair.

As the bronto attacked, a second one was released and about to charge. Fenris held, but Hawke was swept to the side like a rag doll. I cast some healing against my fear, and she staggered to her feet again. Fire exploded from Bethany and Varric fired down the stair as dwarves started coming out from doorways around the open area.

Reaching for that nearly forgotten spell was getting easier as a blizzard came to this bare stone in spring. Mew huddled closer as cold updrafts swept the open stair. The storm was easier, but the fights were getting messier than we'd faced for a while. The storm slowed the dwarves as well, giving Hawke more time to finish her opponents before more struggled to us.

As soon as the attacks stopped, we entered what looked like an officer's room. Varric carefully picked at a new and elaborate chest. I pushed Hawke into a corner, needing her closer. Her heart beat as hard as mine; her fingers loosened some of my braids. I needed to feel sure she was safe in my arms... she was alive.

Dizzy from lust, I heard Varric clear his throat rather loudly. “Well now, Hawke _can_ glow sometimes too. I'm feeling left out.”

I froze, and the look in Hawke's eyes said we would continue later. She looked like she glowed at that, but not as much as I wished we were alone.

Dera called over my shoulder, “Look at it this way, Varric. If you need light to write by, you're all set.”

He snorted as Hawke and I turned back into the room. Bethany was the irritated one now, and Fenris refused to look in our direction.

“That last group didn't say anything this time, Varric. Did you learn anything? What is _wrong_ with them?” Hawke sounded annoyed.

“Maybe they've been drinking themselves stupid. Books on the Champion are still selling well, despite... I can't see any profit for throwing more people against you like this.” Varric polished Bianca with a look at Hawke.

Hawke asked, “What'd you find?”

“Healing potion, a few coins, and stale rations. Nothing special.” Varric could be blasé.

I realized after being annoyed for a moment, that of course they wouldn't have any lyrium potions. Neither did they seem to have anything to help warriors. If any should have plenty of those, it should be dwarves as they had the best access to deep mushrooms. I would have to conserve potions as much as possible.

We moved past some stinking bronto cages and into another area, and Mew sneezed into my ear. No dwarves were visible when we stepped inside. Hawke was drawn to a lever in the middle of the room and Varric went over to look and to help tinker.

“You're not looking so sunny, Sunshine,” Varric asked with a quick smile when they finished.

Huffing a breath in annoyance as Hawke moved to a far door, Bethany said crossly, “This is not how I wanted to come back from my Warden duties. If I came back at all.”

Fenris observed, his voice neutral, “You must hate the darkspawn, after what they did to your home.”

“I have a lot of hate, but it's not that focused. It's deeper for a Warden. It's been a struggle to let that go.”

It just sank in that we were almost the same group that had survived the Deep Roads expedition. Only Fenris was added.

I saw Hawke wince, but she checked the door without comment. I hated the idea of not giving them that chance, but maybe I shouldn't have offered the Joining. Neither of them seemed that happy about it now.

“But you have?” Fenris asked.

Her voice gave nothing. “Let's call it a work in progress.”

After the briefest of pauses, Varric replied encouragingly, “Now maybe the old place didn't roll out the welcome for you this time, but hey, it's still home, right?”

“I've spent far more time as a Warden than I ever did in Kirkwall,” Bethany said bitterly.

That, our storyteller had a quick answer for too. “It ain't the buildings I'm talking about. It's been good to see you.”

Bethany simply said, “Thank you.”

The once sunny girl admitted to hating more than just darkspawn. She would not name anything she doesn't hate.

By this time I was only watching Dera; she'd been afraid of this since Bethany Joined. I remembered how she'd tried to put a good face on the only letter she'd gotten from the Wardens over the years in Kirkwall, and how surprised when she'd gotten anything in Orzammar. She was moving slowly at the traps now, as if she had aged fifty years.

My throat hurt for her.

Varric looked concerned too when he met my eyes. It didn't look like I was the only one to notice that Bethany hadn't said she was glad to see any of us.

I didn't expect her to want to see me, I was the example of all the things mages and Wardens were not supposed to do. Bethany wasn't reacting like an experienced Grey Warden. I thought she knew better, she had to have faced the same hard choices over the years, but now I wondered. Regardless, she still held Hawke at fault after all these years.

Neither Varric nor Fenris had given her any reason to be pissed. Fenris hadn't even said anything harsh to her the way he did every other mage.

With the doors open and clear, a stair led up to more bunks and even personal cases, making Varric and Hawke exchange tired smiles.

After we started down the stairs, Hawke muttered an expletive. Arrows started flying through the open door below us.

“Wait here,” Hawke told us, dashing through the door and her cloud of concealing dust billowing up towards us. Fenris charged off nearly as quickly as arrows pelted the lower part of the stairs.

Bowstrings sang and I heard arrows hit walls and stair. Some hit Hawke and Fenris from the sound. I also heard the clanking of that lever as unfamiliar dwarven screams spread around the chamber. 

I hated not seeing what was happening and rushed down in time to see Hawke yank the lever again. More dwarven screaming came from the spears and dying dwarves. But Hawke staggered and fell as two assassins appeared behind her and blood sprayed all around her.

No _ooo_ _ **oo! We sent fire and ice as we moved forward to stand over her**_ _ **body**_ _ **. We let our fury crush them, ignoring their**_ _ **transient**_ _ **weapons. Anders wanted the purity of magic to speak their doom and we did not pause our attacks.**_

_**They were finally defeated and standing was difficult. I sought more attackers from the courtyard beyond.** _

“Anders, you must heal her.” 

_**The storyteller was speaking to us as the mage was fighting for control.** _

I dropped to my knees, praying that her heart still beat as I tried to pull enough energy to do something. Hawke was too close to death for anything but spirit magic to help. I had only a breath of energy left to keep her alive until I had a little time to recover, even with potions. 

Hawke stirred, and I could breathe better. Hey eyes glazed with pain, I touched her lips lightly and traced up to the faint swirl on her cheek. “Love, don't do that again. Wait for Fenris.”

She coughed and a spot of blood hit my hand. “They wouldn't stay as grouped and it might catch him too. Why waste their trap if they're dumb enough to stand on it?”

“I could have protected your back at least,” Fenris sounded almost hurt along with the anger.

Hawke looked ashamed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, green eyes met green eyes. “I'm sorry, Fenris.”

I heard the smallest of snorts from Bethany, and my annoyance with Bethany crystallized. “Hawke, did your mother hear anything from the Wardens, before that bastard Quentin killed her?”

Hawke's face fell from remembered unhappiness. She couldn't answer and only made a small croaking noise at my question.

This hurt and I felt like a bastard, but Bethany needed to hear this. I healed Hawke a bit more, knowing what I was about to say. Hawke wouldn't tell her sister the truth without prodding. I stared at Hawke, praying that she say the truth instead of what she thought would make her sister happier. “Hawke?” 

She shook her head and looked at the floor before saying reluctantly, “No. I think that hurt Mother the most. It would have meant the world to her to get one letter before she died.”

“Aldera!” Bethany wanted to take the high moral ground but stopped.

I embraced Hawke, healing her some more. This had festered too long.

Fenris and Varric exchanged glances. 

I told them, more than the Hawkes, even if I felt ambivalent. “We're told it isn't easy being a Grey Warden. They are quick to say that it's better to cut all ties with your old life. When I Joined, all I wanted was a permanent escape from the Circle, but it's more than that. It's a calling, it really is.”

Attryne and Sigrun reminded me that the militaristic and uniform-happy Orlesian Wardens had forgotten _why_ we were vigilant and gave up so much. Those things weren't why we fought. I didn't forget that my duty included mages, too, and Hawke. And yes, those duties were worth my life. 

Bethany had trained with those Wardens who thought uniforms and appeasement served our duty. Their priorities never got reset because they missed the Blight. The work and the uniform weren't enough for Bethany to feel proud of.

“This sounds like a real change in tune, Blondie. Did that come with the new armor whe...?” Varric teased.

Hawke interrupted him angrily, struggling to sit up. “That's fucking crap, Anders.”

I was almost surprised that the challenge had worked. She didn't disagree with me that often.

“ **You** don't have a fair comparison about cutting ties! How much contact did you have with your family in the Circle? You had less to lose when you became a Warden.” Hawke glared into my eyes. “You kept contact with Karl. You never mentioned any other friends. How many lived through the Blight for you to stay in contact with?

“You told me about the ones who broke that directive, Anders. You told me of the dwarf with wife and his daughter, the female Dalish mage on missions looked for her sister... Even the Hero of Ferelden still visits her brother. Kristoff had his wife until he died. Nathaniel Howe's sister sought strangers to ask for the mercy of finding her brother, sending us into the Deep Roads. How many others break that 'rule' without it compromising their duty? Family might want to _at least_ know what happened. Would you want me to disappear like that? Who fed you Grey Wardens this nugshit?”

Dera then glared at Bethany, too.

I'd insisted on being with her throughout her Joining, as long as possible and whether it was successful or not. Her dying would have ripped my heart out, but I would have known and been with her when she went into the Fade for the last time. It would have been torture to be left hanging for months like Dera and Leandra had. 

Attryne and Alistair had not forced us into that, thank the Maker. I couldn't deny her anger. “Er... someone at the Vigil?” 

Still ticked, and looking at Bethany for a second, Dera said to me, “Who? The Wardens you admired most haven't followed that rule, and they're better for it. How does that rule help with the burdens of being a Warden? Does it make you any less dedicated in protecting the rest of us? What made you latch onto that rule more than so many others, love?”

“I don't know, Hawke.” I knew part was due to the deaths like Mhairy's but that was not enough to leave loved ones hanging. I refused that.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Fenris moved back outside to watch the clear area. Ser Mew came out from behind the doorway with a tense walk, not quite in my direction.

When Hawke was healed and cleaned up, we went back outside. I hoped we could go slowly until I was sure she was healed enough.

A gate that was heavily barred went the wrong way. There was another set of stairs moving down toward the tower. Somehow I felt sure that was the right direction.

The stairs led to some small platforms, but large pillars blocked the views of the tower. Stepping closer to the edge, we were now a little lower than the top of the domed tower. Large paragon statues wielding hammers ringed the dome. That would be expected for a dwarven fortress against this Malvernis.

What was less expected were the large statues above us and facing into the open chamber with some kind of energy streams flowing like liquid into the center. I couldn't see what was in the center and there seemed to be a bridge from the other direction.

“That is magical energy and those are griffins.” Uncertainly, Bethany touched the griffin on her armor. “Why are _they_ here?”

What was worse was something I wasn't sure of. The energy that pulsed across the gap felt familiar somehow. I looked at the rest of our group and no one seemed to have similar suspicions, though Fenris was always so suspicious it was hard to tell.

Varric was studying the open chamber as if to record it, but Hawke and Fenris moved to the doorway behind us. There I examined a potion to make sure it wasn't poisonous while Varric checked an ancient chest.

Hawke saw something hidden in some old rubble crammed up at the roof and pried at a dark space in the wall. After a few moments, she pulled out a journal of some kind. A small cloud of dust came out when she placed it out for everyone to see,

The ink was old and faded as I'd expect away from a protected library, but it was still legible for some kind of scout's journal. The Viscount's library had records of...

I couldn't believe it. “Another Warden fortress? Like at Soldier's Peak? Just how many have they built and abandoned?”

“What did they guard against? Sounds like the Grey Wardens were not neutral when it came to the Magisters.” Fenris approved of something.

I would mark it in my journal.

Hawk looked uneasy. “That sounds like we're going deeper into the rock then. Who knows how much it may have changed?

“Madness like that shouldn't be the taint. The taint doesn't usually act that quickly, it took days for me.” Bethany looked pale.

Fenris touched her arm. “Not if it is a Magister, they use magic to control your thoughts and actions.”

“I found a big key,” Varric announced. “It must fit some door, or we'll have to get creative and I don't want to damage Bianca.”

The key didn't fit the first door by the stairs where the next group ambushed us, shouting obscene threats. When we climbed back to that courtyard the key fit the larger gate. On the other side was a wide and roofed stairway going down.

Only a couple of steps down and we could see and hear a couple of dwarves with bows. Their voices echoed as they said, “Hold off the brontos. We need the Hawke alive.”

“I can't disagree with them there, except on plurals. They just aren't very hospitable.” Varric armed Bianca and was gauging the distance.

“Fenris, let's just spoil their day,” Hawke grinned.

They charged down the stairs, with Fenris leading with that big sword. When he reached the base of the stairs, plates triggered, and spears lanced up into the air.

Hawke changed her run into a high leap, but was slashed before she got past them.

Shouting, I tried to cast ice at the trap, but Hawke landed in a roll and barreled into one dwarf, knocking him back. The ice covered the holes in the dust, but I moved down carefully anyway. Varric nodded that I could move forward even as Hawke finished her opponent.

Taking a breath I was about to heal Fenris, when he ran through the next archway down.

Hawke shouted for him to wait, but another forest of spears filled the top of the stairs.

I really couldn't see how Fenris could avoid all of them but he ran ahead. Hawke swore and followed, and so did we. Below the stairs was another group of guards shouting lunacy about freeing a demon or darkspawn.

They were dangerous, with archers and assassins, but they had nothing more than numbers on their side. We had two mages, two sometimes angry mages who were working out their anger on these idiots.

Varric tried to divert the lingering tension away. “One more for me! How many do you got, Hawke?”

She managed a smile wanly as she looked for any remaining opponents. “One less to worry about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	17. Malificus By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside the Carta base, Hawke finds dwarves who've fallen under the mental sway of demon. Old warnings mention about how the dwarven Shaperite imprisoned Malvernis here and left guards. Dwarven guards of Malvernis gone, the Carta call on another name for the one they want freed from a prison neither Wardens Anders and Bethany know anything about. Hawke hopes this Mavernis can be convinced or smacked into leaving the Hawkes alone.

**Vimmark Wasteland, Carta Hideout**

**Hawke:**

I was wary when I opened the heavy door into the Carta base. It wasn't just because we were entering enemy holdings, I'd stopped counting those occasions years ago. It was because I didn't like having such a big secret from my friends. Here I was leading them into danger for Bethany and myself, with no clear reason for anything.

Two of these friends nearly killed my Anders not that long ago, and my sister, who I swore to protect at all costs, hated me. Would Bethany have come if I was the only target? Or would she have been too busy with her Warden duties again to write?

Checking passages and doors as we went, we moved further underground. Natural light was still visible in many areas, but Anders was getting more tense. I usually tried to drop back when we were exploring to keep him company, but he was more exposed in the front. He and Varric were much safer at range. I felt bad when Anders got jittery and caressed Ser Mew more often.

Another stair, and this one ended underground with a curved barricade and I signaled a pause to Fenris before I moved around the barricade, keeping to the shadows. A sleeping Carta dwarf was lying beside a lever with a clear view of where I'd just passed.

His snores probably carried back to Anders.

Whatever that switch was for could not be good, so I snuck over and slit his throat, pulling him away from the lever. Nothing happened as his body jerked briefly.

Another dwarf in the next room saw me and pulled a bow out. His first shot just missed me and I leaped back for some cover.

A bolt from Bianca flew through the opening followed by spells and the other guard died.

Varric was amused. “Remind me to never piss us off.”

“He was asleep. That was mur...” Bethany was horrified. “Are we just going to kill everything we meet?”

We'd talked about my getting this kind of training while we worked for Athenril. She knew why I started on this path. I could not undo that choice, no matter what I wanted now.

I marched down the stairs, where I found some supplies but no journals or shopping lists to explain this place.

Varric pushed the body off the stair so he could come down. “I liked these guys better before they found religion, or whatever the unpleasant fellow is.”

Fenris looked at the Carta archer, but not directly at Varric when he said, “I thought all dwarves were drunk.”

“Hey there, Broody! How often have you seen me drunk?” Varric said with amused outrage.

“I cannot be sure. Perhaps you are always drunk and we cannot tell the difference.” His smile brightened his face.

Bethany snickered and Fenris glanced at her for a moment.

Anders joined me and scanned the room with some irritation. “More Deep Roads. Why did we decide to do this again?”

“Because I like trouble, and you think Hawke is cute. That wasn't a serious question, was it, Blondie?” Varric looked at a potion that was just sitting out in the open with some doubt.

Anders pretended to ponder and then grinned at me. “She is pretty cute.”

I leaned closer for a quick kiss and whispered into his ear, “You're handsome too... for such an _old_ Grey Warden.”

He pulled me closer for another but didn't let go of my hand when I moved toward the stairs up to where the others waited.

The next chamber had a larger light shaft going upward, enough that a few straggly plants were trying to grow at the bottom. Rails on the floor said the tunneling had never really been closed down. The entrance to Orzammar had no rails. A table next to the window-hole had a set of instructions, in almost too neat a writing like it was written by a scribe. We all read it.

“ _We have learned Bethany Hawk is with the Gray Wardens. Search all the Free Marches if you must, but find her. Kill whoever gets in your way, but make sure the Girl is unharmed. The blood of Malcom Hawk musr remain pure. The Great One demans this of you._

_\--In the name of the Master, Corypheis. May he see sunlight again.”_

“Maybe we should feel happier they made that many errors...” Varric didn't look as amused as his words sounded.

Anders' grin was a little forced too. “Why can't we ever hunt down normal criminals, the kind that don't worship demons?”

“Because they are weak, too,” Fenris said.

“Madness! Two Wardens died from this madness! What could this possibly have to do with Father?” Bethany's voice shook from her anger.

I looked at Anders and he didn't know what she was talking about either. But I understood guilt from deaths I had not directly caused. “Beth, what happened?”

“A Senior Warden close to his Calling was training another as a guard and they were both killed. We didn't know there were enemies who were untainted.” Bitter, bitter was her voice. “Others were injured, but could be healed. I slept through the incursion, and all they found was a slip with my name on it and location of a Warden entrance.”

With the way she spoke, she had gotten suspicion from the other Wardens when she was woken. After how many years serving there, and they doubted my sister?

I wanted to hug her like when she was little, but she didn't want me near. Anders' hand in mine helped with that pain, and I loved him so much for that right then.

Fenris looked into the light shaft. “They do not seem bothered by the Grey Wardens' reputation.”

With a snort, Anders said, “They never faced the Warden herself or the Architect.”

Varric looked intrigued. “We've fought darkspawn often enough, but they aren't that...”

Anders looked utterly serious. “We have only fought the lesser darkspawn here in the Marches. Whatever tales you've heard or imagined, they don't match the ones near Amaranthine. Thank the Maker that you've never seen a broodmother or the talking darkspawn. I think they lost something with the death of the Architect. He and the Mother were as much above emissaries and ogres, as Meredith was more dangerous than Keran. We needed a full team of Wardens and the burning of Amaranthine to stop them, and barely.”

Fenris made a disbelieving noise.

Reluctantly Bethany spoke. “Wardens from Ferelden have said as much when assisting here with larger nests. Rumor has said that the darkspawn should have died down more than we have seen. Nathaniel told stories about the Deep Roads entrance below the Vigil. You both sounded very dangerous.”

“We were. The Architect wanted to make a demon's bargain to collect future generations. I've sometimes thought the darkspawn Architect bargained with a pride demon. Corypheus sounds as manipulative.” Anders squeezed my hand.

I was just as happy to have missed greater darkspawn.

“Facing the Warden, Blondie? That sounds a story you've been holding out. Sunshine, at least they're smart enough to believe you're pure.” Varric was still cradling Bianca.

Bethany frowned, distracted. “I am hardly pure, Varric, and I am _not_ a girl.”

“That explains why they're reluctant to attack you, Sister.” I wasn't as sure that extended to me. That was enough though. Malcolm Hawke's blood belonged inside us.

“I've seen a lot, but a dwarven blood mage? Can't happen,” said Bethany.

Fenris looked at the words again. “This master, Corypheus. I saw many like this face Danarius. These dwarves have found their demon to worship. Why would it seek your blood?”

“We'll have to get that answer from someone less addled.” I was beginning to be afraid that only this Corypheus knew.

“Too many questions, Hawke. Carta should want gold, not blood. Bianca doesn't like this shift.” Varric looked worried.

When he looked worried, we were in deep. We'd been quiet and I opened the only door and moved ahead. They moved closer and we listened to some Carta guards over a downed bronto.

One said, “If I get the Hawke's blood, Rhatigan says I can go into the tunnels and drink of the Master.”

That just made me nauseous.

“Shh! We must wait in silence. The Master commands it.”

The third voice was petulant. “I hate how you all hear His voice. I never do.”

I looked at the mages and Varric, and pointed at the stairs. Fenris and I would draw their attention.

In the seconds while defensive magics were being spun up, I raced down the open stairs into the room and rolled behind the first for a backstab. Fenris swept the three with his great sword and the one we'd both attacked, fell. We each finished another quickly, leaving us alone in the room.

Spells and arrows were flying over us into the archers on the overlook, though Fenris and I had taken grazes already. There was no stairs and it looked too high to climb quickly, even with a boost.

No other way, we'd have to race ahead and hope no more waited in ambush at those stairs. The dwarves had enough cover that the magic and arrows weren't killing them fast enough.

With a call to Fenris, I ran ahead. There were stairs in the hall and a landing doubled back towards that overlook. No Carta were on the stairs and I rushed ahead. Even as I was reaching the doorway, a fireball exploded among the archers, and I saw that Varric and Bethany were hurrying through to the stairs too.

I was proud of Anders for keeping them busy as I barreled into the first, rolled and then stabbed the one furthest from the door. They were divided now, and we killed them quickly. Anders moved through the room to follow us.

Varric checked the one body. “That was the wrong side of a pigeon shoot.” His eyebrows went up when he found a fairly heavy gold bar on the one corpse.

I had to laugh at his face. “That's a lot of pigeons.”

The number of Carta, table, and chest here made me think this was like Aveline's office. A window looked over a rail heading off into blackness and I could just see two more guards.

I was surprised they weren't alerted by the fight. We hadn't been that quiet and light should have flashed from Fenris and spells. I pointed that way and touched my lips to be quiet.

When I looked over the table, there were a few notes about supplies and patrols, stretching back months. The names weren't very consistent, so I planned to take them for later study.

The one paper had sections scratched out and rewritten, the kind of writing I was long familiar with because of Anders' manifestos. He'd noticed it too, because of a slight flush on his face.

“ _L_ _ike many of you, I was once a thieving wretch. I was a servant to coin and my own base desires. And that is when I heard his call. Corypheus opened my eyes, just as he opened yours, and showed me what was true._

_What is the Carta beside Corypheus? Nothing but dust and ashes. Only Corypheus is eternal. We are his hands and eyes on the surface. We are the ones he honored with his trust, to dig him from his prison in the Deep Roads._

_When Corypheus steps into the sunlight, we will be rewarded. Praise him! Praise Corypheus!”_

“Hoo-boy, that one's been bathing in the lyrium.” Varric barely avoided whistling.

Anders said, with his voice a little flat, “Base desire is much better than this insanity, much much better. Believe me, I know the difference.”

“I'll stick with coin, it doesn't make me go through any funny rituals or drink some demon's potion.” Varric looked disgusted.

I looked at Anders and then my sister. One secret Varric had not gained.

Bethany said, “Darkspawn aren't eternal. Being his eyes sounds too much like blood magic.”

Fenris brushed her shoulder. “How can it be anything else? Only mages can control the minds of others with blood.”

“The Carta are very hard headed, there's no profit here,” Varric said. “Even with finding a gold bar, this is costing them big.”

“Their profit is not from gold.” Fenris kicked at the ground.

This was getting too dark. “I don't know how they heard that I'm _magic_ at digging up potatoes, but Bethany weeded the younger plants. They can't really need potatoes _that_ bad.”

That didn't get any snickers, but I thought the mood lightened as I opened the chest. Inside was some hardtack and not much else... just some supple boots. When I unfolded them, they felt leathery, some hide I couldn't identify. Faintly on a protective heel plate was a stylized griffin.

Anders almost choked up, like anytime he was reminded of the Wardens. “Scout boots? They look very old. How long were the Wardens based here according to the Viscount's library?”

“Just your luck, Sister. Explore an abandoned Warden base and we find scout boots for you.”

I was glad to hear a tiny bit of humor there and I had to smile. “Well, I can't wear the Carta armor we've found so far. These look much cleaner.”

“They look just about your size, you should wear them.”

I couldn't decide if she meant it or she was mocking me. Instead, I packed them away. I knew the enchantments of my Champion armor were better than most any armor I'd found since the Qunari individually. I doubted these boots would be that much better. “Maybe I can wear them if I want to appear intimidating.”

“Nah, you're a softy, Hawke.” Varric looked down the tunnel.

We moved back out into the hall. Further down it looked like the hall had either collapsed or never been finished digging. A bronto was in a cage and got restless as I got closer, but it didn't shriek. The others stayed back as I moved close. I hoped to get close enough to remove these sentries quietly.

One was trying to fill the black spaces underground with questions about this Master and keys that belonged to Papa, but the other liked his place.

They didn't say anything else, which would have prolonged their lives. I peeked around the stone and saw the dwarves, looking bored and tired. I appeared in a spray of blood when I killed the first and the second was killed by Fenris.

Another group wasn't that far and the fighting spread out as reinforcements came at us. I was almost on my own, I had moved so far ahead. Bethany's one spell lit the area brighter than midday, and almost hurt with how bright it was.

Then I was standing in a group of bodies. When I looked back the way I'd come, I saw the line of dead bodies. _Maker, my enemies are abundant._ And yet I lived. What could the Maker think of my Trials?

The others had moved back to the hall, looking for loot or explanation of how a dwarven gang of thugs had fallen under the sway of Malvernis or Corypheus, or whatever his name was.

Three small closets had piles of gold and cheaper coins. It was almost half of what we needed for the Deep Roads expedition. Why it was divided was yet another puzzle,

Anders looked around us crossly. “When I left the Wardens, I swore to never spend another minute in the Deep Roads.”

I didn't think he was really angry.

Fenris surprised me with a comment. “Left sounds like a mutual arrangement.”

I rolled my eyes at Varric. Neither of them could resist. Good thing there wasn't a demon of snarky comments as they'd be doomed.

“Fine, I ran away. What's it to you?”

“You're not too good at it, Abomination. Ran way from the Circle, ran away from the Wardens... sounds like a habit.”

A faint snort from Anders made me relax.

“Run from your family straight into Danarius' service, run away from the Magister straight to Hawke. Maybe we're more alike than you think.”

Fenris growled something in Arcanum.

I moved down a long open stair, pulling Anders down with me. There were chests and a table there.

Varric whistled quietly as we got closer. “These are expensive and proof against smash and grab jobs, Hawke.”

I had to grin. “Good thing we're better than the amateurs they expect.”

When I reached the table, I saw a ratty journal. I turned to Varric, about to say something about his writing, but he didn't look good.

“Does anyone else hear drumming?”

My stomach dropped. Varric and Aveline had been my rocks throughout my time in Kirkwall. I looked at the others and they looked surprised or concerned as they shook their heads. With the demon affecting my dwarven friend like these Carta, this became more urgent.

I wasn't sure if he was relieved or more worried after our answers.

I picked up the journal and Anders moved closer so I had enough light to read. I cursed before I read the most legible bit aloud from last year.

“ _The Wardens did not guard the key with care. It was left in a repository, with objects of little worth. Trinkets. Dusty Grey Warden trophies. Not even a guard posted. Fools. If only they knew what they had, and had lost._

_It will not wake at my touch; it sleeps and its power remains within. The Great One says it requires Malcolm Hawke's blood to awaken it. Only then can its powers set him free._

_I will find the heir to the blood and the Great One will reward me. Yes. Let it be soon.”_

My sister's face was creased from her displeasure. “A key tuned to Father's blood. Who thinks we'd believe that? I mean, it's ridiculous... right?” She was trying to convince herself.

“If this has to do with your father, we'd better get your hands on this key.” Varric patted Bethany's arm.

She hadn't been around when his broken bother returned, but he understood family.

Fenris said, “I cannot like this kind of title, Magisters have titles like these. At least they die when my blade severs their head.”

Anders moved closer for a brief, hidden caress.

This was becoming a nightmare. _This key requires our father's blood._ Was that living or dead? Not that I thought they'd care what happened to us afterward. “Somehow, his having a rat in his name, must have been a sign from the Maker.”

“That explains the boots, Hawke. Maybe we'll find something for Broody.”

“The only suitable sword so far was not enough to make me change from this former Archon's blade.” Fenris didn't sound as irritated as a moment ago.

“Maybe we can find a log or records. The stories those trinkets could tell.” Varric sounded frustrated.

I agreed with Varric. While I didn't tell stories, I could be as bad about collecting trinkets and papers. As I picked the locks of the chests, I wondered where I might store things like that now.

The battered chest had some coins and something desiccated and mysterious. No one wanted to touch it. The other chest had a tougher set of locks.

After more frustration and some suggestions from my colleague, the separate bolts clicked. Inside, was a glowing orb with enough heat coming off of it to be felt as soon as the chest opened.

My throat felt dry. “Well, now. I guess that orb is still here. Anders, what happens if you kill the blood mage who's controlling others like these Carta?”

“They come out of it quickly, sometimes unwilling or unable to remember what happened.”

That bitch at the _Rose_ flashed to my mind as I carefully squeezed the orb. It didn't feel fragile but very solid. “Does anyone have a better idea for this Malvernis than smashing the orb with a rock?”

Anders laughed. “I am sure the dwarves tried that, love. He can't be wholly spirit but I have no idea how the Shaperite could imprison the pride demon's host, too.”

“If it is contained by some kind of prison, it would be better to be away from those weak-minded followers when we destroy it,” Fenris said.

“We could move outside to give us more room,” Varric said, looking around at the dark spaces around us. “We've been grouped too close if the Carta had mages.”

“Maybe we could check in with Aveline and rest too.” I didn't want anyone exhausted before another ambush. It felt like a long day already.

Returning back to the entrance wasn't that much of a walk and Bethany wanted to bring the one bronto out so it wouldn't starve. No one told the bronto, and we had to put it down.

While I was sad we couldn't let it live, I felt obscurely comforted that she cared about a bronto.

When we passed the third of the Shaperite warning markers, the ground began to shake. That wooden stockade where the dwarves attacked us wasn't in our direct view, the stone channel and wooden defenses were in the way.

But snow and swirls of ice spiraled up into the sky, and odd sounds came with the ground-shaking thuds.

“My blizzard doesn't last this long.” Anders sounded uneasy after we'd watched for a little bit.

I wasn't that happy to see this, and was glad when we held hands. “I've got a bad feeling about this.”

The shaking ground was affecting me more than the others and I realized part of the shaking was coming from where I'd packed away the orb. When unwrapped, it was only warm. It crackled with Fade energy that even I could feel.

Anders looked at me with alarm, blue flickering through his brown eyes. “Put it down, love.”

I did, carefully, and it started rolling away rapidly. I pulled my weapons, dropped my pack, and set off after. When we reached the turn before that killing ground inside the outer gate, the orb was still rolling.

A pillar, new since our last visit, and horrifying, looking like skulls and demons made into stone. The orb was rolling toward the pillar, too quickly for me and I ran.

The pillar flashed and the grains of dirt or ice hit me as I skidded to a stop before I smacked into the stone.

The orb kept rolling and in another flash of light disappeared into the carved pillar.

I backed away a few steps as the rest caught up.

“That is ugly. No wonder they hid it in the dirt,” said Anders with some bravado.

Varric was more critical. “It doesn't resemble any dwarven work for ages.”

“Who cares?” Bethany asked us all.

Before she could say more, one more explosion of light and energy threw me to the ground.

Scrambling up, I saw Fenris was the only one on his feet and someone in black robes rose up. Without a word, spirits and even some of the corpses we'd left scattered around, rose at his gesture.

“A mage. Of course it was a mage,” Fenris said with loathing.

At least Malvernis made no pretense about wanting to kill us.

We had to get up on the defensive platform on one side. When we had, Fenris started working his way through the archers until I joined him. Bethany attacked anything approaching our group. Anders and Varric had our backs.

Varric threw that spear trap on the mage and his ghosts. That convinced Malvernis to move away.

We could hurt him.

I scooped up one of the bows left behind by the dead Carta. The spirits further away weren't much of a threat and I had used a bow at Ostigar. Fenris guarded the ramp against any spirits who crossed the open ground, but we were killing him slowly with ranged attacks.

Malvernis moved among the largest clump of spirits on the other side.

Varric took a breath. “Do that again?”

“Sounds good, just don't stop in the middle,” I said.

The second platform went slightly faster. Before Fenris and I got to Malvernis he somehow moved to the middle again, maybe afraid of Fenris' mercy blade.

Varric laughed when he used the lever on this side.

The mage wasn't as amused, even if he still didn't speak.

In a flare of energy, he changed form into a dragon outlined and shining in light. He leapt into the air, a thing of grace and beauty as he circled for an endless moment.

Until he landed on the platform where Anders, Bethany, and Varric had been standing.

I shouted and ran back to them, Fenris just behind me.

Varric had rolled off and resumed fire at the huge target. His bolts ripped into the body. Bethany was shouting too.

I couldn't see or hear Anders.

Slashing at the belly and watching the snout, I looked for Anders. He was bloody and I wasn't sure if he lived.

He must be too damaged for Justice to stand.

I dropped disorienting and smoke grenades. The dragon was stomping around enough to finish Anders if he stayed here. So I gripped his coat and belt and hauled him back the way I'd just come. I used one of our precious potions, praying to Andraste that I wasn't too late or hurt him more.

Roars and spells made a nightmarish backdrop. I couldn't stay much longer and I mopped my eyes and sniffed.

“Go on, pretty bird. I'll recover.”

His eyes looked bloodshot, but I quickly kissed his forehead and ran back.

The others were injured and I felt guilty. Varric had moved onto the platform near Bethany. The dragon attacked Fenris, but the great sword was big enough to be a threat.

Maybe this Malvernis forgot me or thought I'd run away in fear.

His tail was low to the ground as he breathed down on Bethany and Varric. I had tried this once before in the Bone Pit and only severed a wing.

This time I made it along the ridges to where the wings and forelimbs all met at the spine. Too late he felt me on his back and started to try to shake me off as his head started to turn. I clung to a protective spine as I looked for the thinnest spot.

I heard Fenris' shout as Malvernis snapped at me, almost pulling me off. I stabbed the wide and long Qun blade straight down and the world dropped from under me.

I was still well above the platform but the head whipped about, and magic flowed through the dragon as blood floated up.

Fenris decapitated the head. Only death spasms went through Malvernis.

I felt healing, and saw Anders standing shakily where I'd left him. With a smile, I went back to help Anders get past the body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialogue is canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	18. Don't Let Her See Her Papa Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deeper into the Carta hideout, Varric has an unpleasant surprise.

_The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. Some characters may be my creations. I get no money for writing this sequel._

_\--- x x ---_

**Vimmark Wasteland, Carta Hideout**

**Anders:**

Malvernis wasn't quite a demonic name, and he wasn't just a mage. Hawke and Fenris fought Malvernis up close after the spirits and corpse-walkers were destroyed along the platforms. Bethany's force magic slowed the wrath demon more than Malvernis.

When he changed into a translucent dragon, I had to look at the wonder, feeling the tapestry of complex Fade energies as he rose in the air. I wished I could somehow learn that magic from him, for a few seconds.

Until he landed on the platform where I stood.

I'd never thought much about old Orlesian books about predator birds stooping, until just a glancing blow hit me. Justice threw us aside at the last second and my chest was almost crushed; we were left under the dragon, unable to move or breathe. 

A blow from Fenris made the dragon shift his stance and I took a shallow breath. Hawke cursed as she dragged me away. I was healing the damage from being moved with the dregs of my energy. I'd be a fine smear if I stayed underfoot for this fight. 

She ran off after putting me in a low ditch. I healed myself, throwing small heals for the others as soon as I had any energy from some lyrium. Varric fell while Hawke was leaping back from an aborted hamstring.

Not quite ready to stand, I heard Varric muttering a complaint about his innards as he got up enough to toss a grenade to disguise his movement. I struggled to stand just before Fenris killed Malvernis.

Even in death, I was puzzled about what Malvernis was, as dwarves are resistant to magic in subtle ways. Bartrand and ghouls were as close as I'd seen to an abomination. I had to wonder who or what was its host. His corpse wasn't a human form, but male dragons were usually small and stupid. 

The silence echoed and I checked over Hawke and the others, worrying about Mew. I'd set him by our packs before we'd left the stone channel and I hurried back to collect him, curled up on our things, stretching to stand before I picked him up.

Hawke came back and snagged her pack. “Well, that should let the Carta go back to smuggling, theft, and intimidation, right?”

Varric grinned too. “Whatever this was for the Wardens, it looks abandoned by them now. Wonder if we can poke around and find out why. I could use material for a new tale.”

When I cuddled Mew close, he purred. “You just liked having us all as convenient subjects.”

“Larger than life champions and rebels, Wardens and escaped slaves. People still can't get enough of your stories. Sales in Tevinter and Rivain picked up after last fall, to my surprise.” Varric was gloating.

I looked at Hawke, feeling dismayed. Fame was worthless if I couldn't do something with it to help the mages.

Bethany sighed. “My commander will want some report. I'd like to see if there's any records in the tower with the griffins on it.”

“It'll be like old times,” Varric said with a grin. “I'll just say this happened earlier if I sell it.”

Hawke looked curious and glad to explore, so I said nothing. We camped out with Aveline, and exchanged battle stories. Their group fought over a score of messengers and fighters and the guardsmen were a little spooked by the mentions of Corypheus. They had only a glimpse of the dragon.

Early in the morning we returned. We found only one patrol, showing signs of heavy travel. They must have avoided our camp, but they were like every other Carta gangs we'd fought.

Moving further underground, I was getting more uneasy. It wasn't that I felt any Darkspawn, not yet, but there weren't any more light shafts so it felt more like the Deep Roads. A bit further and the tunnel opened up into a larger chamber with mine-carts.

A dwarf stepped forward in a relaxed pose, his arms slightly outstretched.

He was still babbling about Corypheus, and Hawke cursed under her breath.

“Gerav?” Varric sounded like he had just been punched in the gut.

I wasn't the only one looking at him while still trying to watch the Carta.

The other dwarf seemed to focus on our group in truth. “Varric? N-no one told me you would be part of this. We were just going after the Hawke.”

Hawke was stiff with anger. “Why _has_ the Carta been attacking me?”

The Carta almost seemed to shrink back when she spoke. “I c-can't say. The Master must be free...”

“Really, Gerav? I thought better of you than this.” Varric shook his head, caught between mocking and disapproval. “I mean, gutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, that's the game. But what are you all doing here? Worshiping demons? That's not for us.”

“When we drink the darkspawn blood, he calls us...” Longing was in his voice, though Gerav's eyes were clouded.

Darkspawn.

When I flicked a glance at Hawke, she looked as disgusted as I felt. Ghouls like him were what awaited us if we stayed past our Callings. She hadn't seen any of them before now, but I remembered Velanna's sister. She'd looked almost normal but worshiped the Architect without any feeling for her sister.

Ghouls didn't even _miss_ the light, and that was anathema to me.

“Why would you do that? What does that get you? Darkspawn blood kills!” Hawke looked at Bethany.

“It's the only way... to hear the music,” said Gerav.

I was past disgust and beginning to fear. The Commander, when very drunk, had told us about the singing they heard when the Archdemon rose.

This was too like the Architect's plan to speed blights and for Wardens to stop fighting against the taint. Darkspawn and ghouls were from the worst kinds of rape. I _had_ to speak. “Is Corypheus singing to the next arch-demon? Do you hear him every day, or even now?”

The ghoul nodded with a slight smile.

Varric interrupted. “Oh come on, you nug-licker! Snap out of it. There's no profit in hallucinating...”

Hawke interrupted him. “An acquaintance of yours, Varric?”

Taking a deep breath and visibly forcing some calm, Varric said, “Hawke, this is Gerav. He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug from the Carta. Gerav, this is Hawke, the one whose blood you want to drink or bathe in or whatever.”

His geniality was fracturing again. “But if you're after eternal youth, I've got to tell you she's no virgin.”

I had to smile at that quip, though I could see Gerav didn't even react.

“The Master is calling. He needs the blood.”

“Gerav... buddy... This isn't like you.” Varric was pleading now. “Look. I've still got Bianca, never misfired a day in her life. You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?”

Gerav was waiting, not hearing Varric in the least.

Hawke asked, “Varric? You want to spare this bastard?”

Shaking his head, Varric lowered Bianca. “Not if he's after you Hawkes. Bianca, I think it's time to say goodbye.”

Gerav was alert enough that he avoided his death, or maybe Varric was slowed by regret. More Carta emerged from the shadows and attacked. A fan of ice held them away until I could cast other spells.

Varric roared his outrage, but most of these Carta were fast, too fast like Hawke. Keeping track of them to avoid death strokes from nowhere was the hard part.

Fenris charged into the middle, and Bethany slowed all the ones he was near so he cut them like a scythe. Hawke went after Gerav in a bloody fast fight. Varric finished stragglers and any that came closer to Bethany and I.

When the last Carta fell, Varric moved next to the body and rolled him over. The sightless eyes were still cloudy from taint.

“You poor stupid bastard.” Varric sighed and bent over to search the body for information. When he found a folded and worn paper he seemed to dread opening it. When he had, he crumpled it up.

With a faint sigh, Hawke asked, “What was that?”

He dropped the paper on the ground, but didn't react when Bethany picked it up. “I used to do business with the Carta, back in the day. Gerav was a nutcase then, too, but in a good way. He was trying to design a new type of repeating crossbow. Bianca was the only one that ever worked. I can't believe he ended up like that.”

Hawke put her hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Varric.”

“Me, too. He still had the letter I sent him about a year ago. Maybe if he had come...” Varric shook himself. “He didn't have anything else personal, just my letter.”

We checked the Carta corpses, but what little we found didn't explain anything about Corypheus. No one said much for that little while. 

Varric hadn't helped, he stepped aside into silent thought, not quite looking at his former friend. This was nothing like his usual jovial smirk that he'd worn even against Meredith in the Gallows. This was the first time outside his brother that Varric wasn't the story teller. We were nearly done when Varric finally polished Bianca as he usually did.

Hawke let him mourn for a time. “So what was your friend's story?”

Varric looked up finally. “It's not much of a story.”

“But you are,” Hawke said, sounding like she hoped to talk to the friend and not the writer. “And so is Bianca, even if you won't tell her tale. Doesn't Bianca deserve some kind of eulogy for her crafter?

Kicking at a piece of debris, Varric said with barely a catch, “Gerav was a rotten businessman. But a Paragon at making a crossbow that could sing. I thought he'd be safe enough working for the Carta. They need weapons, even if they go low ball for most of them. Gerav wasn't a fool on much outside gambling, so I just don't get why he'd fall in with some kind of secret group within the Carta to come here.”

Hawke let him talk.

“Don't get me wrong, Hawke.” Varric suddenly sounded angry. “He was trying to kill me and my friends. And that's hard to forgiv...”

His dismay was palpable as he heard what he'd just said. “Oh, shit...”

I hadn't ever expected to see him blush, he didn't make errors in speaking like this. I often wondered if some of his clever words would have solved more problems around Kirkwall.

Coughing, Hawke said, “It's over. I was asking you, so don't change the subject, Varric.”

His smile was a little more real, this time, “I like breathing, Hawke, and that's what it came down to. There's no profit in doing shit for some prisoner who'd promise anything to get free.”

I looked at Bethany and she knew too. “Varric, he was tainted by Darkspawn and badly aside from trying to kill us. He would not have survived much longer.”

Hawke shuddered and hugged herself.

“He said something about drinking or eating darkspawn. Ghouls are mad and dangerous.” Bethany looked just like her older sister for a moment before she crossed her arms. “Tainted like that never last long with any semblance of themselves. I really would rather have died.”

Hawke was not the only one showing a look of pain at Bethany's statement. Even Fenris looked uneasy.

“There wasn't much left, Varric. He died before we got here.” I stepped to Hawke, and held her tight. “You all will need to be careful about getting tainted by darkspawn. They can't be that far from here.”

“I'm not considered senior enough to be taught how.” Bethany looked at the bodies crossly.

That was interesting that she didn't. I thought it more common a skill, and looked at Hawke. She grimaced but nodded shallowly. Neither of us wanted Varric or Fenris to face death the way Bethany did but we wouldn't conscript them.

Another set of passages led to some more Carta. They had an apostate but he wasn't enough to make a difference.

A pair of griffins flanked the next doorway but when we passed through, another Carta stepped forward from beside a packed bronto. He was further along in his taint, but he was not vague like the others but met our eyes easily. “Hawke. They told me you were going to be trouble.”

Varric laughed. “You should have listened, Rhatigan.”

The Carta ignored Varric. “And look, you brought the whole family. How generous. I swore to Corypheus we'd bring Malcolm Hawke's blood. One way or the other...”

Hawke stepped forward and demanded. “What does this have to do with our father?”

“The Master wants you. I don't ask why.”

Fenris snorted his disgust. “He is a slave enthralled by his owner. They would not escape if you opened the cell.”

“Another ranking Carta who doesn't care about profit. Maybe there is something in the water.” Varric's voice was tense despite his words.

Something else was wrong, there was too much light around the dwarf, the cloudiness of his eye very clear in the light and veins in relief.

Hawke bit her lip with frustration at the useless answers. “So it's _Corypheus_ who's after us? Oh, you're _just expendable_ lackeys.”

That riled the dwarf. “What Corypheus wants, Corypheus gets. From us or someone.”

“Someone? Someone who? I just came to tell you, Someone, or whatever this Corypheus is, your attacks need to stop. I never followed orders very well, and you haven't done a thing to convince me you're anything but a plague. Our blood is not yours to offer.”

Rhatigan stepped back, and spread his arms. _Maker, he began to glow._

“Corypheus, we have done as you command! Your sacrifice is here. You will see the surface once more.” He seemed almost joyful.

I'd never wanted to see a joyful ghoul and I felt almost sick as I saw movement in the gallery over this pen area.

“Yeah, just when Bianca was beginning to think one of them might be reasonable.” Varric sent a hail of bolts up to the Carta archers.

I didn't like that the bronto could trammel several of us on one pass, and tried to cage it. I only slowed it, but Hawke attacked it from the rear and we exchanged brief smiles.

Fenris attacked Rhatigan as Bethany froze him, but the dwarf leaped away,

Suddenly a heavy saw-blade trap rolled out of the floor, ripping into Hawke and even the bronto. It started thrashing, and scattering anyone nearby, including Rhatigan.

After I healed all our group, I threw a protective shield on Hawke as she hacked at the fatally wounded bronto. By the time I'd cast a bolt at Rhatigan, the bronto had stilled. Hawke attacked the leader but Fenris knocked him silly a moment before.

Bethany moved too close to the gallery and had several bolts embedded in her armor as she bled. I hurried to restore her circulation without closing too much and followed with a shield as she started wobbling to try to remove some without more damage.

Roaring something incoherent, Fenris ran up the ramp but more saw blades slowed him. Varric moved up to and insulted the other archers.

Hawke's cry drew my attention. The Carta leader had disappeared from sight. That was too clearly a set up for a fatal backstab.

I heard another howl as I cast another shell, and I looked behind me.

Paws ran into the chamber and leaped, shaking the Carta's head from side to side like a rag doll as he shrieked.

Hawke closed and kicked Rhatigan's blades away. She stabbed the man in the chest and finished him. Her voice was sharp. “Paws!”

Her mabari stopped wagging his tail and cringed, and I felt for him for a moment.

The archers were fewer, but I ran to the ramp so I could get in range. I called for Hawke's attention.

We faced only handful of Carta now. And then none.

Mew wasn't that happy at the mabari's return, but I wasn't as sure it was a bad idea. Neither was Hawke, despite her tapping her foot as Paws tried to look cute.

I could hear smothered chuckles around me, and even Justice was paying attention.

“Did you warn Aveline or sneak off?”

His wag was only half-hearted.

Hawke sighed. “Aveline deserves an apology, doesn't she?”

Paws nodded and crouched down a little, wagging hopefully.

Hawke bent over and scratched Paw's head. “I am glad to see you, boy. You'd better protect Anders and Varric while I'm busy.”

He barked and licked off her face, his hindquarters swaying.

Varric called from where he stood over the dead archers. “Not much up here, Hawke.”

Fenris had come back down the ramp and looked at the savaged skull of the Carta leader. “A fitting end for such weakness.”

Bethany had repaired some of her own injuries and I finished checking her work.

When Hawke checked Rhatigan's corpse, a new blue light grew from her direction and I swung to look in alarm.

She picked something wrapped from the body, and it was a knife. Long and with an odd shape, it glowed like it was made of lyrium. When she touched it, there was a burst of familiar energy and she paled more in the white light.

“Love!” I rushed closer but the fear in her eyes made me stop before I touched the glowing dagger.

It didn't feel like the red lyrium idol or Meredith's blade.

Despite warning me off, Hawke was afraid as she glowed. It took her more than one try to speak. “What is this, Anders? I can feel it spreading inside me, like Sigrun's whiskey punch.”

I checked like I had at her Joining, and the magic was already a part of her. Far more quickly than the Joining Cup. I nudged it with my own magic without much effect. I brushed hair off her face and as soon as I had, I pulled her close.

She dropped the blade with a clang and relaxed a little.

Tucking her head under my chin I met Fenris' eyes before speaking to Dera. “I don't know, love. It doesn't seem to be harming you.”

Bethany bent over and picked it up uneasily. “There was one like this in a sketch in Father's notes. It might be his.”

She dropped it. “I can't touch it for long.”

We each tried it. Varric could hold it the longest, but it felt like how a metal rake sounded on stone. I could hold it the least and it seemed my energy was being sapped into the Void. Fenris' markings flared before dimming.

“Father was here at some time. In a Warden prison.” Hawke looked grim as she almost fondled the dagger.

I could only worry.

Hawke looked down the large mining tunnel, where ore-carts were covered in layers of old dust and dirt. “Corypheus must not have been that dragon.”

“Malvernis does sound more like a demon's name,” Bethany said regretfully. “This Corypheus' singing sounds more like an arch-demon from Warden lore.”

“Warden Cousland said she had nightmares from the waking Archdemon's dreams, even while a new Warden. We are linked to it.” I was filled with fear, Justice catching it from me. We had spent almost a decade with Vengeance whispering in our thoughts. _Was that the same?_

Hawke's nightmares had quieted a little after we left Orzammar, but almost every Blight ended with the winner's death and Hawke...

“Anders!” Hawke was gripping my arms and looking up at me. “Calm down. The could be another like that Architect. If it's more, other Wardens will know, right?”

“All Wardens knew the Blight was over when those nightmares Faded,” said Bethany.

I grabbed Hawke to hold her tight and whispered, “He cannot have you. There are enough ready to go on their Calling.”

“One day at a time, Anders.” Dera twirled a finger through my tiny braids. “He could just be a new kind of darkspawn.”

I hoped she was right, but _our_ fears of Corypheus had not faded.

When everyone was healed and ready, we moved into the tunnel. The light dimmer in the tunnel, I almost didn't see two dwarves as they scuttled away ahead of us.

Bianca got one but the other got away.

We hurried down some steps and through a doorway after the mining track led into an immense cave in.

The steps were more finely finished, but when we neared the bottom, a gate crashed down behind us. The gate seemed to be protected by a magic barrier surrounded and protected the gate.

“Those sons of bitches... the whole blasted thing is sealed over.” Varric spoke for me too.

Fenris tensed after the clanging, looking for attackers. “How did these dwarves come and go as they have? How could they trigger a _mage's_ barrier? Where that mage?”

Bethany winced. “It's an old magic, I can almost feel the shape of it and the one lynchpin to make it fall apart.”

With an apologetic gesture, Fenris asked, “Is that wise with a demon inside?”

I could believe it was old, but the magic interlocked into a solid wall that deflected my magic and we didn't want it broken. “I think a demon that powerful can stay here forever.”

“We can ask them later.” Varric frowned at the barrier. “Maybe they have a pickled nug's foot in their boots.”

We moved forward and we were in a chamber, open into the chasm where the tower rose above us now.

Hawke's hand was touching the new blade. “I'm sure there's another way out. See, there's some kind of bridge from the tower, we just need to find it.

What I didn't like was the greater confidence, almost pride on her face as she held that blade. She didn't react when Paws nudged her.

Hawke smiled at the blade. “ **This** is going to take me to Corypheus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Parts of this are canon, but tweaks for flow and expansions will be common in the Legacy section. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	19. Deepish Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare when Hawke and company find themselves trapped inside the prison, ruins, or whatever the place is. As they begin to find clues for what happened before, they hear words of a long dead mage and face a ghoul of a Warden.

**Vimmark Grey Warden Prison, entrance**

**Hawke:**

The dagger I took off the Carta leader looked unbalanced, but it slid into my hand like it was made for me. The point on the side looked like it might puncture heavier armor, not just slice. In my hand it felt light and fast. 

Despite that speed, I couldn't like how it looked. It looked ugly and cruel. If I was going to commission a weapon for assassination, it would be this ugly. My stomach was full of acid at the physical expression of the assassin I'd become. 

With all that, I still didn't want to sheathe it. 

Paws butted his head against my chest, and I looked down into his eyes. He didn't worry about 'then,' past or future and sometimes I envied that so badly. I scratched his head when I was sure I wouldn't start weeping. I had to smile, as it was no mistake that Paws didn't bring Ser Mew's basket.

He cocked his head like he heard something moving in the big tunnel. Quietly, I started after the sound with Paws running. Two Carta were trying to get away and I ran down the stairs as Paws tripped the one.

The dwarf rolled away from my mabari with a scream and a crack of bone as he fell down the stairs. Bianca finished him, but the other made it out of sight.

I called Paws back, I didn't want any of us running into an ambush.

Varric noticed the barrier that appeared behind us. Neither Anders nor Bethany knew how to open it. There _had_ to be some way out if Father had been here once. We didn't have that much choice but to go in.

The next room was missing a wall, and looked out at the lower end of the tower we'd seen outside. A bridge we hadn't had a good view of before was higher.

Clouds of dust blew through the chasm around the tower and daylight seemed glaring after our time underground.

“There's... a whole tower down here. I've never seen anything like it.” Anders sounded surprised, and brushed Mew away from his ear absently.

Another bridge seemed to be in the same level as we were, but it looked scarred by time and weather. On that platform I saw some hurlocks sidling toward the base of the tower. I didn't feel any ravening obsession with killing them, they could kill all the insane Carta they wanted. I didn't feel anything different than the disgust I'd always felt.

Anders stood close to me. “And I thought I'd left darkspawn behind for good.”

Putting an arm around him, I could feel he was only slightly tense. I poked him where he was just a little ticklish. “Which time? The Vigil? Sundermount? The Deep Roads expedition? Orzammar?”

“Point taken, love,” Anders said as he took my hand before the third poke.

Nothing else seemed to be moving on the bridge, so we moved into another room that had some roots and dirt in an alcove with a skeleton.

“Not the most cheery drinking companion,” Varric said as he and I checked for notes or valuables.

“No, it isn't.” Bethany rubbed her arms like she was cold. Her head cocked like she was listening, but she didn't say darkspawn were coming our way. “Back in the Deep Roads. Like it or not, hmm?”

She spoke to Anders, I hoped.

“Like it or not.” Anders' voice was flat.

“Must be hard, after walking away from the Wardens. Not everyone gets that choice.” My sister's voice was bitter again.

When I looked back at Anders, his voice was briefly as bitter as Bethany's when he spoke. “You know what I chose. Or what chose me.”

I didn't know how to reply to my sister, but I stood up and muttered an excuse to Varric. Then I dragged Anders back into the room looking at the tower. “Anders...” I was hurt and couldn't explain why, let alone why that made me angry too.

His eyes softened as his arms went around me. “I wish this was the place for that, love.”

“No. That's not it. This isn't about Justice, either.” I turned away, trying not choke on my words. “What you said about Justice just now was so bitter. It was hard to believe anything after Justice made you happy the way you said it.” I was part of that anything, that he sounded like he hated.

His face was puzzled for a moment and his face paled when he realized what I meant. “No, love. I don't want to think about never meeting. My only chance would have been in Kirkwall with Nathaniel or Alistair and that would have been slim.”

Anders pulled me closer for a kiss as desperate as our first, but then he brushed my chin looking into my eyes. “Sometimes I wonder why you ever were interested in me, a half-crazed escaped mage and Warden. The rest of the time I just thank Andraste you are.”

Feeling the warmth of him holding me close, I could relax a little. “The bitterness scared me, to hear it from you, too.”

Apologetically, he ducked his head and smiled at me. “I didn't mean it that way, Hawke. I probably should have told her that the walking away isn't that hard. It's just putting one foot in front of the other. I worried for years they were going to execute me because of that Templar Roland's attack I fought off. But no Wardens I met spoke about it. Maybe they know how hard it is to avoid darkspawn so it's not worth the work. Maybe it was the Commander.”

“If you really want to walk away from the Wardens again, we can find a way, somehow.” I had more concerns than darkspawn, they'd kill everyone equally. “I don't think the Commander doubts your willingness to fight darkspawn even if you skip the meetings. But first we have to get out of here.”

Anders looked at the tower base and frowned, and then he looked back and smiled again. “We're together, and I can tolerate the Deep Roads.”

We rejoined the others, where Bethany and Varric were talking about darkspawn types. Fenris looked annoyed as he watched. Paws was resting but sprang up.

The next door in our way didn't even have a lock and resisted my push. Fenris and I shoved against it and it crashed open. Without any surprise I saw some genlocks raising bloody mouths from the Carta that got away from us. Behind them were hurlocks.

I dropped a grenade to slow them while still bunched and then sprang ahead, killing the closest hurlock. Spinning past the glow from Bethany's weight spell, I felt so quicker than them and moved after the darkspawn barely moving. Fire and ice rained down on the group as Fenris finished another. 

The fight was fast and my only problem at the end was deciding if my hearing was off because of getting hit on the head or the concussions from the spells. Anders was checking Fenris for injuries. Varric and Paws hadn't been hit.

Paws chewed the air after, and I wished I had a treat for him. While we'd been in Orzammar, Anders couldn't make much of the mabari aiding recipes that he'd been given. I should have commissioned the new collar and kaddis, because I worried with every fight that he was slowing. 

After our attackers had been destroyed, I finally noticed that one of two cells held a shade, trapped inside a magical barrier. We'd fought many shades so I'd rather destroy it than leave it at our backs. I could see no door or lock and put the problem aside for the moment.

I returned back towards the rest for healing and heard a voice echoing from the walls. 

“... be bound here for eternity: hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be.”

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

Varric laughed a little hollowly. “I was afraid to ask when I heard that one.”

It looked like we all had, the voice was familiar but Bethany didn't say anything. Maybe I was imagining it. The near listing of demon types bothered me as well. I had to wonder. “Why weren't sloth demons mentioned?”

Anders frowned. “Sloth isn't much of a threat for a prison? That is close to a Circle binding spell to send smaller demons back through the veil.”

My sister was quiet and looking at large shields on the wall. When I looked, at first it seemed just a Grey Warden shield in an old style. But there almost seemed to be a glowing to it. 

“Have you seen this shield before, Anders?” I had to know what was happening. _Could he see it too?_

He glanced at it, perhaps a little dismissively. “Yes, it's on many old references and started falling out of use during the Exalted age after the fourth blight ended. The griffins were dying out so they became central and symbolic when ages passed without a blight.”

Bethany met my eyes and I nodded that I saw the glowing. I didn't know what it meant, but she stepped forward and touched the center. A flare of light and something seemed to be spinning in midair just in front of the shield's center. I wasn't happy that it looked like blood, droplets floating in a small spiral wall in front of the shield.

That flare caught Anders' attention and he looked at the imprisoned shade and then spoke sharply to Bethany. “That was what holds it in. How did you do that?”

“It was a very old force spell, already fracturing. You didn't master force magics, did you?” Bethany was more than a little smug at knowing something Anders didn't.

He frowned but didn't argue.

“If it's fracturing, I don't want this shade up our asses. Can you unlock it so we can kill it?” I wanted it destroyed. _That demon was held here for how many years?_

“Blood magic taught by and compelled demons for the Magisters.” Fenris growled.

“Come on, Broody, you know few Wardens are mages, let alone Magisters. Excepting these two, how many Warden mages did we see in Kirkwall? Magisters would be ten times worse than Blondie.” Varric tried to defuse the fresh wariness.

I had to grin. “Based on Danarius, I'd bet they felt they were above drinking at the Hanged Man with the rest of us.”

“Wardens love their drinking parties. One I knew was always half drunk and berserker; we drank a lot then.” Anders had enough of a grin that I could relax.

Bethany looked unhappy. “You probably could open it too, Sister. I used no magic.”

She was looking at the shield behind us, and I saw a glowing spot on it too. When our eyes met I saw a little of the same fear in her eyes. Not for our safety, but for things I didn't want to be true.

What we'd denied for our entire lives.

I stepped over and touched the tiny spot and there was another flash. The shade was at the near side of the cell, hoping to be freed.

Free to be forced to the Fade.

No one was happy Bethany was right.

With little speech we arranged ourselves and I opened the gate so my sister would be away from the direct fighting. 

I didn't manage to kill the shade before it got some kind of protective magic up, then it summoned more. We couldn't attack it directly, only the groups of shades that appeared one after another. 

Finally it summoned no more and its protection ended. The shadowy stuff lost its coherence and began to dissolve into the surrounding air.

Within those mists a blue light seemed to light inside the mist. It moved toward the closer shield that had seemed to speak earlier. “I can do nothing about the Warden's use of demons in this horrid place. But I will have no one say any magic of mine ever released one into the world. Hear me, demons. Be bound here... 

I had to close my eyes. This was pieces of an answer that almost broke my heart.

My sister's voice sounded like a little girl's. “Did that voice sound familiar to you? I could almost swear...”

“It sounded like Father. I don't know how.” My voice sounded harsh as I wanted to scream.

There was a moment of silence and my mage said, “If the Wardens used demons, we might face as many of them as darkspawn.”

“Foolish.” Fenris left it at that. Maybe he could say more in Arcanum, but only Anders might understand.

“Doesn't matter. We've killed both. This is a ruin, not a working base any more than the ruins in Ostagar were.” Foolish was far kinder than the word I wanted right now. Demons could not be trusted.

Past the first pair of cells we found another pair of empty cells looking out at the tower again. It looked like the chasm was filled with more rooms and cells than just the tower. The second cell looked like there'd been a small camp long after the debris and dust began to collect. Varric and I found sign of blackened ash under the dirt along with a few partial pages of parchment. _How many ages since this_ _place_ _had proper maintenance?_

Bethany was tapping her feet as we tried to decipher the writing on the sheets; I had one and Varric the other. There was two sets of writings, both roughly as legible and at right angles. The newer one might be more useful.

Fenris said suddenly, “You speak of disliking the Deep Roads a good deal. Why?”

Anders sighed and sounded irritated. “Besides the obvious, you mean?”

“It's a dangerous place, but less so for a Grey Warden.” 

“Most Warden missions are futile. Darkspawn this, darkspawn that. Taint taint taint taint taint. After a while, you just get so tired of it, you know?” Anders didn't sound just bored as he spoke.

“I... begin to now.” Fenris scratched near his ear.

Bethany admitted, “I never found out why Stroud's group was in the Deep Roads, years ago. There weren't any thaigs to support nearby.”

I didn't have any acids handy to raise the lettering on the sheets. The little I had would just destroy it.

Varric shook his head too and said to me, “The newer text is this way, less on the page. She has neat handwriting though.”

“Anders, do you know a way to make these readable? I think the sideways is more relevant.” I hoped he'd picked up some technique.

He took the writings gingerly and the very light gray original writing flared, becoming a dark sepia. “The original is construction notes and directives, mostly about the stone masonry.” He hummed as the shorter text became a deep red that contrasted better.

Varric had moved to look a the page as Anders experimented. “Privileged to the Wardens...”

Anders grinned and said, “Oops!”

I thought he stopped grinning at the same time as I did. They deserved to hear this as this was starting to look very ugly. I was the one to bring them in and I would tell them. I read it aloud while Anders kept it legible, reminding me of happier times with old tomes back in the mansion.

“ _All we hear is that this is one of the great Grey Warden secrets. 'It must be protected at all costs.' As usual, we're most concerned with deceiving our own people. But why hide that the Deep Roads were shaped not only by the dwarves but also by us?”_

 _What was_ _her evidence for saying this?_ Dwarves were in bed with Tevinter and the Chantry, but Wardens as well? How? How could Wardens shape them when we only fought them? I continued reading:

“ _I found records dating back to 1004 TE, in the wake of the First Blight. Early Wardens discovered that some darkspawn could think and speak and commanded portions of the hoards even after the Archdemon's death. A few could wield magic with the skill of a Tevinter Magister, and the Wardens greatly feared them.”_

When I paused at the end of the page, Anders sounded betrayed. “The Wardens _knew_ about creatures like the Architect and Mother but didn't warn us? At least a score of Wardens were slaughtered at the Vigil when they had no warning this was possible.”

Varric sounded suspicious. “Why no warning their own people? It sounds like they wanted you to fail. Bianca's thinking it would prevent any challenge to the more senior Wardens.”

“How many died over the ages? How can we be vigilant or win victory?” Bethany sounded outraged.

I swallowed. “I'd thought Wardens were the heroes of legend from my childhood. Giving up so much to protect the rest of us.”

“Love, some I've met are heroes. Some only Join to be arses in a different uniform.” Anders rubbed the middle of his chest.

Feeling a little guilty about the reasons for my own Joining, I read the second page.

“ _It was here, in the Vimmark Mountains, that Warden Sashamiri set her trap to capture and study the greatest of these creatures, the one whom they called Corypheus...'_ She signed it, _'Grey Warden Janneka”_

This was the most useful thing we'd learned about this place and Corypheus.

Anders began to glow and seemed to be sputtering his rage. “One like the Architect lived after those charged with his destruction got stupid?”

Another glow came from Fenris like any time Magisters were mentioned, but dimmed slightly when Bethany spoke quietly to him.

“You killed that Architect, Blondie. Any particular reason why you can't kill another?” Varric seemed balanced between excited and worried.

Anders looked at me and them. I didn't want to conscript them either.

I was going to be a rotten recruiter. Not that I cared.

I was probably going to be even more rotten about following the many Warden traditions. Those that weren't good traditions that fought the blight or made Wardens work better together, weren't worth bleeding for.

“Arrogant fools. How much easier would it have been for those months at Amaranthine if you'd been companies of Wardens instead of a handful? Why didn't any Wardens come from the Marches, they'd be closer? You don't send raw children with a water bucket for a house fire.” I was angry _for_ Anders and Sigrun and Nathaniel. Fereldan was expected and set up to fall to the Blight. It was comfortably far away.

Fenris growled. “Pride, they thought they could control a Magister to _study_ it.” 

“The Architect was skilled at making pawns of every race, making them willing to turn against kin. Did these idiots think they could control an Arch-demon to study it?” Anders really hated the Architect.

I had to look away or start laughing at them agreeing. Biting my lip, first I met Varric's amused gaze. “Varric, I'd prefer if you'd cut back on my personal life in new stories, but Wardens shouldn't keep secrets like this about the darkspawn. If their own people can't be warned about dangers, we should.”

We moved into the next room, closer to the bridge. A few darkspawn appeared but not enough. Soon we could look out at the bridge and see a bent figure, wearing old and damaged Grey Warden armor.

He seemed to be looking at us in just as much surprise.

We moved out slowly. Paws growled softly and brushed against my leg every other step.

Closer, I could see great patches of hair had come off his head. Old dried blood and other fluids had stained his armor. He was armed, but if I ignored his head he just looked like someone else trapped in here.

Bethany and Anders looked ill at ease. 

The man stuttered at first when he spoke. “The Key. Did you find it? The dwarves, I heard them... looking... digging. Did you bring the Key here?”

He made me uneasy too, and I brought the dagger out. “You mean this, how is this a key?

His nodding reminded me of Sandal's. “Magic, old magic, it is. Magic from the blood. It made the seals. It can destroy them.”

That fit what we'd been learning. “I came in here to find Corypheus. Do you know where.. or what... he is?”

He cringed and waved for quiet. “Do not say his name! He will hear you! Do not wake him, not when you hold the Key!”

That sounded crazy, but I hoped he knew something useful. “What are you? What's wrong with you?”

He seemed amused and waved in our direction. “You ask me that? _They_ know. I am the one who belongs here, not you. You are no darkspawn.”

Anders sighed dramatically before smiling slightly. “I was getting worried. We can go home now.

Varric whispered to my sister, “See, Sunshine. You gotta get out more.”

She wasn't relieved. “That's Warden armor, where did he get that?”

Anders looked at her in disbelief.

The stranger looked at her with his clouded eyes. “You hear it calling don't you? I can smell it on you.”

Bethany paled and moved back a step. She didn't deny it.

I stepped forward, a bit angry. “The door sealed behind us. Is there another exit?”

My sister moved forward and touched my arm. “Didn't that Carta say they want us? Won't they keep coming after us if we exit?”

The tainted Warden answered. “There is no way out when the walls stand. The Wardens build their prisons well. If that center holds, who cares what else is trapped?”

“His mind is scrambled eggs, Hawke. He won't be able to help us.” Anders' voice was flat from over-control.

“Hawke!” The old Warden stepped closer, sounding excited. “You are the blood of the Hawke?”

My blood wasn't that special. This was suddenly funny. “Let me guess, you want to drink my blood, too?”

He wilted in disappointment. “I smell no magic on you...”

I looked at Anders with a grin. Despite his efforts, I didn't smell of him.

But Anders muttered something insistent about wind and freedom. Varric laughed at Anders' brief pout.

The stranger looked at the glowing dagger I still held. “You hold the Key! The key to his death. Yes, I can show you out, yes.”

Killing one of these greater darkspawn, especially one already making some effort at kidnapping and killing what remained of my family, held no conflict. Corypheus should die. 

But I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was afraid. “What do I need to do?”

The tainted Warden got excited. “The seals hold us in. Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves. Not without the key. You must use it, yes. On the seals. Every seal, you touch the key to it. Only then they open. Only for the Hawke.”

 _W_ _as he clever enough to lie, or was he hearing this Corypheus like the Carta_ _were_ _?_ I looked back toward the entrance,

He shook his head. “...Not back! Not up! Only way out is down and through the heart. I know the way out. Follow me. Down and in. Down and in. Down in the depths...” He scuttled away toward the base of the tower, and for an instant, I could see what he once had been, despite broken body and ruined armor. 

I made a face, knowing this wasn't going to be simple. “I always like to follow the advice of tainted, crazy people.”

My face got warm when everyone laughed a little at that.

The Warden lurched closer. “Not crazy, no. Trust me. I know the prison's secrets.”

Then he scuttled away.

Anders stopped smirking. “Well, that made everything much clearer.”

Carefully we circled around the outside, well behind the tainted Warden. It was clear path, though there were a few dried skeletons under many pieces of fallen masonry. One still had a leather pack and Paws nosed it before a quiet ruff.

Inside was a ripped out page, trimmed like it had been in a book once. This aged better, one side spoke of a lost base on Soldiers Peak and the Dales. Anders snorted.

The next was more relevant right now. “ _The Grey Wardens' prison in the Vimmark Mountains is believed to have been constructed more than a thousand years ago. The original method of construction has been lost to history, but the Warden-Commanders of the Free Marches have maintained the prison's secret through the centuries.”_

Anders' voice was sharp. “The Commander of the Free Marches did a _splendid_ job of keeping it secret from you, didn't he, Bethany?”

She glared at him, but didn't defend her superior.

Varric was shaking his head and about to make a biting quip, but I stepped over to Anders and put an arm around him. 

He relaxed a little and muttered a half-hearted apology, which Bethany responded in kind.

I finished reading the account:

“ _The prison is concealed in a great rift in the Vimmark Mountains, far from any easily-traveled mountain passes. The Wardens themselves have spread rumors of banditry and beasts to prevent explorers from approaching._

_The prison consists of a central tower built into the rift with magically-maintained bridges allowing access at different levels. Each level is sealed by a blood magic ritual in which a mage of untainted blood uses his own life essence to create a magical barrier that is permeable from the outside yet impenetrable from within. This one-way access has caused other darkspawn—and perhaps unwary travelers—to be caught within the prison's confines. Those who disappear inside never re-emerge.”_

Fenris started to say something cutting about blood magic, and I was glad he stopped. I was on edge and I knew it.

“Then we can't strengthen these seals, can we?” Bethany asked. 

“Do you want to?” Anders' face looked emotionless and cold. “Do you agree that darkspawn or demon should be trapped here for fools to study? I think we know enough to know that answer.”

“I'm surprised you say that, Abomination. You want to send rival demons away, when you roam freely?” Fenris taunted.

“A talking, intelligent darkspawn may be more dangerous than the Archdemon. They fight smart. They propose deals that sound so, so reasonable, even to Grey Wardens. Most of us were tempted, arguing for or against his proposal, despite our normal beliefs. Only later did we realize how subtle it was. How much of what's happened here is from this one's influence seeping out? He's not even awake? I.. _we_ don't want to send it away, it should be destroyed. How many has it destroyed through the ages? How much has this foolish experiment cost?” Anders showed no sign of Justice.

“Sunshine, we don't have an untainted mage, do we, unless you have Daisy in your pocket?” Varric wasn't smiling as much on this mission.

Father escaped without killing this Corypheus. I was afraid of a darkspawn this powerful.

The tainted Warden came back into view and gestured us to follow before moving out of sight again.

“Sometimes I almost forget what it means to be a Grey Warden. But seeing _that_ made it hit home...” Anders said with a sigh.

“That man should have been dead long ago.” It wasn't clear if my sister was sad or angry that he wasn't.

Fenris and Varric exchanged glances, but Varric asked the obvious question. “Why 'should,' Sunshine?”

“Wardens are _all_ dying from the taint, Varric. Anything over twenty years is uncommon. If he knew Malcolm Hawke before Aldera was born, and was already proven himself enough to know about this so secret prison... His Joining might have been forty years ago.” Angry, Anders ignored my sister's attempts at interruption.

“He must not have gone on his Calling when he should.” Bethany only seemed a little less annoyed that Anders hadn't spilled any bigger secrets.

Remembering the moment that Warden looked strong, I said, “Looks like he got trapped in here and was too tough to die. That's not a sin.”

Varric moved toward the archway. “Well, he seems reliable. Let's follow the crazy man, shall we?”

I sheathed the Key and wiped my sweaty hands off before moving after Varric. I looked into a chamber with a glowing platform. The Warden seemed to have disappeared. “For someone who knows all the secrets here, he sure knows how to make himself scarce.”

“Maybe that's what they teach in Warden school,” Varric said, holding Bianca ready for fire. “What is that shape there in the middle?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Palimpsest was reusing of hide parchment when it lasted longer than the need for the original writing. Paper made this recycling unneeded.
> 
> Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	20. Breaking the Seal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaching the first seal in the Warden prison is only the first step. No one likes what they find at the seal or what it requires of them.

**Vimmark Grey Warden Prison, Sashamiri's Floor**

**Hawke:**

I had to look at Varric for his clueless question, even as I identified the transparent pride demon aloud. I wasn't the only one looking to see if the dwarf had a head wound.

When I realized that everyone else had spoken at once, I had to snicker. Exactly what Varric wanted, from his smug grin.

“This _must_ be the seal,” Anders said with a weak smirk.

“Shush,” Bethany said with an abstracted look as she looked at the platform.

Before we looked around, I wanted to be sure the demon wouldn't attack. “That thing is bound right now, isn't it?”

Anders peered closely at the one pillar, ignoring the transparent demon within reach. “He's part of the barrier and seal, love. We're as safe as any place this close to Deep Roads.”

Varric and I shook our heads at them, before Paws and I joined Fenris in examining the room's perimeter. There wasn't much interesting, just aging stonework. Two archways were partly blocked by rubble, but the chamber held nothing else to answer my questions: no bodies, journals, or even paintings of those people here before us. I hoped we'd be the last.

Soon, I joined Anders at the one pillar and he returned Mew to his shoulder and take my hand. 

With the light less sharp in here that I'd expect in a crevice, I couldn't tell if the ornamental pillars were at the four cardinal directions. There was some kind of lettering on it, and not what I could read. Anders' grip was firm and he looked disturbed by what he was seeing. I was unhappy that the pillars were topped by shallow bowl, and this one had a tiny drain that still looked clear.

The platform was round, and only a handspan high. A pale light seemed to be flowing through a pattern of grooves in the circle, tiny columns of the light seemed to be rising up when we'd gotten closer. The light flowed through the wispy demon above the platform.

The soft light was almost pretty except for those shallow bowls around the platform.

Anders' arms went around me suddenly and his voice sounded strangled when he spoke. “Bethany what color were your father's eyes?”

“Green, like...” after a pause she said, “Ohh.” She muttered something Mother would not have liked.

That was not a thought I wanted to dwell on, but I didn't want to interrupt them. Varric and I just waited silently. 

By this point Anders had continued to study the seal, and had been muttering to himself or perhaps Justice.

Fenris talked quietly to Paws, which was new. Then Fenris moved over to glare at the bowls and asked, “How many were sacrificed to make this place what it is?”

“ _I did not do_ _it_ _,_ ” Anders said, with Justice just beginning to manifest.

“Neither of us had anything to do this... terrible act.” Bethany sounded cross, too. 

“Wardens should have killed it, not put it in a weakening prison!” Fenris argued. “Magisters are too powerful even without allies. They...” 

“In case you forgot, Broody, Sunshine and Blondie aren't Warden Commanders, and I'm willing to bet those keep this secret pretty close.” 

I didn't know Cousland like Anders did, but I doubted she'd let this one live if the other one was killed. Anders looked distracted and didn't speak.

“I almost wish we could strengthen it,” said Bethany.

“Let it fall,” Fenris growled.

“No, that's worse,” Anders said sadly. He didn't let go of me or show his usual love of arguing with the warrior. “Then all the things, whatever is imprisoned in this place, will be released all at once. We're skilled, but do you think we will survive all at once or keep them in?”

“Judging by that Malvernis and the darkspawn we fought so far, I don't want anything in here, out there,” Varric said.

“Blood magic only held it in here for a generation. But in this way, blood magic doesn't matter. Even if I knew how _and_ wanted to renew the binding, I'm tainted.” Bethany looked at Anders for a moment.

For a moment Anders' face paled and he looked at me like his heart was breaking. 

Shaking his head, Justice emerged. _**“It should never have been captured. Darkspawn destroy and corrupt what is outside the Fade.”**_

“No surprise the demon wants destruction...” It seemed Fenris argued only because he distrusted Justice. 

“ _ **I am not a...”**_

“We _know_ that. Justice. Fenris is baiting you. Enough arguing about what should be.” I thought we had few options, all risky. “We only have three choices. One, stay here and fight until we die as crazy tainted creatures, bindings break anyway. Two, break the seal and kill the bastard, praying we can do it when they couldn't ages ago. Three, open the seal briefly if we can and escape, hoping to raise a large enough force to kill him before he destroys too much of the Marches.”

I waited a moment and asked, “Any better ideas?” When no one said anything, I put out the plan I hated least. “We kill him.”

No one argued against that, though Anders gave me a pleading look, his fingers tangled in front of him and he couldn't speak.

“How will that binding be broken?” Fenris asked with a flat voice.

Anders snapped back at him. “I think you've guessed. I want to determine how to undo it, safely.”

“You are not the _only_ mage here, Anders,” my sister growled.

Running his fingers through his hair and calming a little, Anders admitted, “I know, Bethany, but I doubt you've had as much training in the old texts. Last I knew Warden training for mages was haphazard. Have you? I don't like what I've seen to this point, and some of the Arcanum was obscure in the treatises I'd studied.”

Bethany said with a grimace, “No, I've only been able to decipher a few words, including 'blood.”

Fenris only snorted at her disgusted admission.

Anders took both my hands and rubbed them, warming cold fingers. He couldn't look up into my eyes. “Each of these stands is a keystone for the seal, all charged and recharged through the ages. Break one of these keystones and like an arch, the seal falls. We have to use your blood to fracture a keystone...” His voice was a whisper by the end.

“Why not my blood?” demanded Bethany, “Mine's the _same_ as hers.”

Anders looked away, irritated, “Of course it is, but it's not that simple. The key is not a stave. Have you trained with blades?”

“My sister will not be fighting the seal, and of course I've used knives,” Bethany was getting angry.

“Hawke can handle close combat better,” Fenris growled at my sister.

“I promised, Bethany...” I started to say. _Maybe this time I could save her._

My sister stepped over, quivering with her anger. “I don't care what you promised, _dear_ Sister. I am an adult and a Warden far longer than you... can accept. I am not a child who needs protected...”

“Warden!” Anders' voice was clipped as he interrupted her. “Varric, you heard those drums outside where the Carta were.” 

Varric only nodded, even if it wasn't really a question. 

Anders only looked at Fenris. “You hear anything?”

“ _Nothing_ Magisters haven't done before.” Despite the challenging words, Fenris looked as his feet as he shifted his stance.

I was alarmed. Other than what seemed normal Grey Warden nightmares, I hadn't heard anything. Now that I looked, they all looked more tired than the few hours since we left Aveline warranted. 

Anders now looked at my sister. “That Warden _knew_ you were hearing things now too, more than Varric and Fenris. I've been hearing a wheezing voice, few words.” 

“Isn't that your demon that controlled you before?” Fenris asked.

“That doesn't explain you or me as well, Broody. The Carta aren't always the brightest, but this has been going on far longer than Blondie's problems.”

Bethany flushed a little, but said, “Only whispers, but no words.”

Anders flashed blue but gritted his teeth. “What I've been hearing is more than just words, but gloating, enough to frighten a spirit.” He gripped my hands. “You haven't heard any voices have you, love? Truly?”

I shook my head. “Nothing that wasn't you people and talk back to me.”

Bethany took a breath, about to speak again.

Anders said, “The voice is growing in clarity, hasn't it, Bethany?”

“Whispers only, it's no worse than darkspawn,” she insisted.

“I've never heard darkspawn, Sunshine. Not in the Deep Roads or ever since,” Varric said. “I don't like what I'm hearing.”

Fenris nodded. 

“It's growing worse, Bethany, and more than whispers. Your father's blood may be helping you resist it more than any but your sister, but you are not immune,” Anders said. “That's why the binding couldn't be changed by Warden mages, we think.”

Justice manifested, but only shifted his stance as his grasp loosened on me. _**“No, I do not know what the voice**_ _ **wants**_ _ **. I would stop it if I could. It is... troubling.”**_

I looked at them, Justice's expression wasn't the usual anger or occasional calm, but a less clear emotion.

“ _ **As the one least affected by the influence of blood magic in this place, Aldera Hawke must break the seals.”**_

“And I'm so sorry, love,” Anders finished, his eyes wet.

Bethany stalked away, and Fenris followed. She should be safe,

“She'll calm down. She usually interceded when Carver and I argued,” I said, knowing I was trying to convince myself.

Anders held me close, and I started worrying about what might happen if I died. I didn't want him throwing his life away.

They came back a few minutes later and Bethany looked better. I'd tried to reassure Paws.

Anders looked grave. “This is definitely blood magic. If your blood is part of Tevinter-styled bindings, that might even be part of why your family settled far in a land as far from the experts as he could get.”

“Andraste's homeland as well,” Bethany added.

Not sure why that made her think that was related, I ignored it. Looking at Anders, I waited for the rest.

His mouth making a tic, Anders took my hand to kiss it before saying, “Breaking how the bindings interlock before it breaks on its own will require using that key artifact and blood. A little more because I don't know much about that school.”

I looked at the demon that floated like smoke inside the magic. “Will the demon be sent back to the Fade or will we have to fight it?”

“Freed to fight,” Fenris said without doubt.

Varric began digging grenades and poison out with a smile. “Another pride demon for our scrapbooks. I'm not sure I have a full set yet.”

I pulled Anders aside for a private moment, worried at how upset he'd been.

He pulled me against him, clinging to me. “Love,” he hiccuped. “I promised after Kirkwall not to keep secrets, but I...”

I hugged him tight and his shivers were like he was frozen from a cold winter storm. “Shh. I'll listen, no matter what it is.”

“Remember I said Vengeance was more like a bloodmage? He left behind some knowledge like Kristoff, but it's just facts in a book. I might be able to strengthen the binding your father made. His magic would still be the framework, and I would use almost none of my own. It would require a lot of blood, maybe all of yours and more to make up for the taint. Please don't ask me to.” His voice was thready.

Holding tight, I rubbed his back with one hand and then stretched for a quick kiss on his cheek. “Maybe I'm not pragmatic enough yet, but I don't see how delaying this choice gains us anything. If the Carta and even Wardens keep being seduced by his whispers of power for ages, why would that change in another thirty?”

Anders sighed in relief. “I was afraid you might, love.”

Varric whistled and we broke apart. They'd spread apart around the platform, ready to start.

Facing the platform, Anders explained what he'd figured out. “These basins each use one of the four elemental schools. Each weaves into the seal and the demon who is part of the binding. Break the binding on it and the demon is freed. Without the demon, the stream of energy sustaining this seal will end. Any remaining energy of the binding you broke will splash back at you and hopefully be absorbed into the Key.” 

“That's several guesses in there, Anders.” Bethany's voice was flat.

“You father could control it and use it when he was here. But there must have been other times when rebindings had to be done by non-relatives. We don't know who refreshed the bindings before him, but he obviously wasn't killed.” Anders took my hand and listed which kind of elemental school each pedestal was attuned to.

I'd seen and felt these four and wasn't enthused about taking any of them deliberately to free a demon. 

  
  


_\-- xx --_

**Anders:**

The whispering began not long after the barrier closed us in. At first being closed in wasn't too bad as we kept coming back to the tower and natural light, but then I started hearing more. Sounds that I alone heard. At first it was like a lecture heard from another room, or my youthful spying in Kinloch on the older mages and their lovers.

But no matter which way I faced or stepped, it didn't quiet or become clearer.

Justice didn't like it either and wanted it to stop.

Holding Hawke helped the most, much like it had with Vengeance. Mew was getting annoyed with my starts and was starting to use his claws.

By the time we'd spoken to the tainted Warden, I could almost hear the voice. At times it sounded a little like the Warden, Irving, or even Wynne, but that wasn't possible; the voice just sounded trustworthy. A voice of sweet reason almost surprised I hadn't fallen in line. 

In line with what I didn't know, it wasn't that clear.

Seeking to distract myself from the voice, I noticed Bethany looked wary and started at no sounds. That was no surprise when those notes said Warden mages couldn't do the binding. What was surprising was that even Varric was quieter and more suspicious, though he didn't comment like he had yesterday. I didn't think Fenris would answer if I asked.

Hawke seemed oblivious to this and focused on our progress. 

When we had heard their father's voice I thought it was the same, but his words were clear and warmer despite disgust with the Wardens here. Hawke heard him too.

But when we spoke to that Warden past his Calling, he _knew_ we heard that silent voice. And at that accusation, everyone flinched before Hawke turned.

 _ **We**_ didn't trust him.

He had answers and refused to explain even to three other Grey Wardens. His madness and disappearances were too convenient for secrecy. 

If I couldn't feel the raw mass of his taint I might think he was just a ghoul.

The seal itself was a glowing fountain of Fade energy, beautiful in that and even beautiful to the eyes. A fountain in a soft color that delighted the senses. The demon wasn't, but I could only admire the seal for a long moment.

It was elegant.

The seal was made up of layers of magic, stretching back through the ages. Some was old and only trace-work remained, informing and framing the more recent binding. Some was harsh, anger or fear part of the shadings. But the newest was strong and confident, unbroken by Templars or taint, holding the demon as within steel.

Elegant in his magic, and I again wished I could have met their father.

Justice was quiet, in spite of how little he approved of demons. Everyone but Paws seemed fascinated, and I wondered why. Then I noticed the light was a very pale version of Hawke's eye color. I really didn't think it would have prevented Bethany from doing this if she hadn't been tainted, but it was interesting as I studied the seal.

The seal fed off the demon like a chunk of lyrium, and despite all I'd determined from examining it, blood was needed to open _or_ strengthen the seal.

When I'd studied it as long as Justice thought practical, I explained the elemental school for each pedestal. I felt ill as not only would Hawke have to bleed to break the magic's linkage, but we'd have to fight the freed demon immediately after that magical energy flooded to the blade, through her. 

When she stepped close and touched the bowl with wary curiosity, the flow of energy thickened into visibility, linking the four pedestals and the now more solid appearing pride demon. Bethany started forward and Fenris took a step back.

Hawke had approached the one marked for nature magic, and I couldn't disagree. That living school didn't kill as quickly and I'd have more time to try to counteract it.

Hawke put on confident grin and touched my arm. “How about I bleed somewhere other than my hand? I doubt the demon's going to be the friendly sort.”

“I'll hold him for a moment,” Bethany said firmly.

Hawke nodded and took a deep breath. Then she rolled up the sleeve of her armor and held herself very still over the basin marked with a bunch of vines.

I showed her to the safest spot, one that should clot on its own. 

What didn't help was that I was trembling.

I hated this. I'd rather kiss Meredith than allow blood magic to affect Dera.

She squeezed my hand and then let go. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready, Hawke.” Varric spoke calmly while Bethany watched with worry.

I put up a shell around myself and held healing energy to heal her as soon as I could. I couldn't speak, but only nodded.

Dera cut her arm, her eyes bleak as it began to drip down her arm. When it slid down the knob at her wrist, instead of dripping down to the floor it rose and joined the energy flow from the pedestal. The thread of blood wove up among the flow of nature energy, making it solid instead of transparent.

I heard gasps and two growls from behind me.

When the ribbon reached the demon, the blood stream on Hawke's arm got thicker and the demon started to move.

Hawke's gasp seemed to echo. 

I heard Bianca get cocked. 

Wanting so much to heal her, I only barely resisted that, but I couldn't resist moving behind to hold her. The energy flow felt like a burn but Hawke relaxed against me and that was more important. I steadied her as the ribbon spread out from the center and darkening the other energy streams. 

In the time it took to spread, the huge pride demon examined our group.

After she took a deep and careful breath, Hawke chuckled. “At least there just isn't the space for any giant statues to whack us around.”

No one laughed, but I hugged her just before the ribbon reached the other pedestals.

When it did the energy flow between the pedestals and demon thickened to be almost solid and the tide of flow returned back to the center. With a thud, he landed, his anger and contempt palpable.

Fenris crashed into the pride demon, while I was trying to heal Hawke without dropping her. She was already shifting to join the attack as I cast a spell to revive her. 

I wanted to tell her to slow, but the demon's magic had already swept over us once as the others fought. The demon had turned a little to face the elf and Hawke sprang forward, drawing another blade.

Concentrating on attack and healing magics, I still heard a thread of that lecture and tried to ignore it.

Hawke and Fenris kept blocking the demon and it disappeared in a blast of force energy. Hawke had been blown back and knocked her sister down.

Bethany pushed the slightly stunned Hawke and hissed, “You need softer armor, Sister, maybe in blue.”

While I checked them, Hawke stood, shaking her head. “Only if I find any better than this set.”

She was looking around, but Paws was growling and charging at an empty corner. Hawke followed and attacked even as the mabari was ripping into the demon.

The pride demon disappeared again as it weakened, but this time we watched for Paws' attack, Hawke close behind.

As soon as the demon was defeated, I noticed that the Key was glowing like the pedestals. But they were fading steadily as I watched. The dagger stopped glowing when I looked at it, but continued in my mind's eye.

Hawke was looking at the Key in consternation. Her off blade already sheathed, she looked like she wanted to drop it.

I heard a growl from Paws and that tainted Warden stood in the open archway, looking satisfied. _How insane was he really?_

Wiping her face off, Hawke asked, “Let me guess. The first seal?

The other Warden's eyes were riveted to the platform and fading demon. “Over a thousand years, the magic holds. Never broken. Give it the Key. Let it take the magic back to itself. Absorb it, all who came before...”

I looked at Hawke and Bethany and shook my head. The magic was already absorbed when the seal was broken. Energy didn't just hold still like this. The demon would have used it.

That Warden just looked at us for a moment and maybe noticed the blood from our most recent injuries. He nodded. “The blood works. It is good.”

Hawke smiled as it to humor him. “Thank you for helping, but who are you? Do you have a name? Is that your Warden armor?”

Frowning like it was a difficult concept, the Warden almost stuttered. “Name... So long since I've said my name. La... Larius! I was Larius. There was a title, too. Commander... Commander of the Grey.” 

His speaking almost echoed the voices I wasn't hearing. But really it only held a hint of old pride.

I explained for Varric. “He was a Grey Warden. Poor wretch must have come down here on his Calling...”

Bethany looked troubled. “Is that what it looks like?”

I nodded. “We never saw any because near Ferelden there just haven't been many or live that long.”

“Yes! The Calling... the songs get louder. Only death stops them.” Larius paused. “I am dead, but I never died.”

It just kept getting better. Healing magic couldn't bring someone back from beyond death, but he wasn't quite dead. _What was he?_

_Was that what would happen to Hawke down here?_

Insane was looking the most likely, and that didn't make me feel any better.

Varric spoke for the first time in a while. “Anders. What are you talking about?”

This was important, to warn them somewhat about the death sentence we were under. “Wardens aren't immune to the taint forever. In time, we start to hear voices. The same ones darkspawn hear. Then we go into the Deep Roads to take some with us.” I looked at Hawke, now condemned to the darkness too.

“That's the life, and what becomes of it,” Bethany said sadly.

That probably was why Wardens didn't stay with non-Wardens. Some like Hawke would not accept that parting. Some couldn’t accept it at all. I'd known few Wardens who stayed together, we'd flitted from partner to partner like honeybees. And it looked like neither of the Hawkes would accept that.

I envied that.

After a moment Hawke swung to Larius to demand answers. “I've opened the seal. Will the prison release us now?”

This Larius shook his head without any grief. “There are more. Follow them in. All the way to the heart. Many locks. Only one key.”

That made Hawke more angry with him. “If you're Commander of the Grey, then you should know what just happened. What does the seal have to do with my blood?”

Despite his losses he straightened as if to deny her demands but then hunched. “The magic, it calls to the blood, reads the thoughts of those who hold it. The last to hold it, the Hawke. I... I was there when he laid the seals. Before I became this.

“You favor him.”

That made Hawke freeze for a moment, a look of loss on her face.

“ _C-Corypheus calls! In the darkness! What waits there?”_ Larius scuttled away at almost a run.

“Why is he asking us? I thought he knew all the secrets of the prison?” Hawke yawned.

I stepped next to Hawke and held her.

Varric looked around. “Some of that sounded good, but then it took a jump off the cliff.”

“Blood magic.” Fenris spoke with great disapproval.

“Don't be silly. I can't do blood magic. I can unlock things, though.” Hawke said with forced cheer.

Bethany was examining the platform and pedestals again. “It interlocks many magics.”

“It's linking you to the seals. They're all dangerous, love.” I worried about the other seals.

“They aren't going anywhere, Blondie. I don't think we have that much reason to hurry.” Varric slung Bianca back in place.

Hawke looked back and away from the tower. “We rest where we aren't open to attack on all sides.”

No sunset or stars tonight.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	21. Too Many Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkspawn are an ever-present threat as they move deeper into the ruins, but traces of Malcolm Hawke remain in the demons he bound within. Whispers bother everyone... even non-Wardens like Varric.

**Grey Warden Prison, Sashamiri's Floor**

**Hawke:**

Despite Anders' healing me before I fought that pride demon, I was exhausted. The demon was maddened enough that it didn't even try to talk to us. Usually you couldn't get a pride demon to shut up.

My hunger was roaring too and I wasn't happy about the possibility of eating the rations we'd found. Only the Maker knew how old they were.

Anders made me finish my water, filling my waterskin with a small spell for a second time when I gave the first batch to Paws.

Varric finished polishing Bianca and put her away. “Is it just me, or is this Larius a few bricks short of a wall?”

“Who could deny the former?” Fenris sounded amused at the question and a small smile appeared when Varric did a double take.

“He knows something, even if I'm not sure how much he understands that he knows.” I retrieved and wiped off my blades, glad that none looked damaged. I put them away and wobbled a little when I was straightening up.

“Be careful, love. We still don't know what we're dealing with in here. I don't like the frequent use of blood magic.” Anders looked away, almost haunted.

But I couldn't let him leave us, there was no way out, and he'd only die on his own.

Fenris looked at the bloodstained pedestal bowl and spattered droplets below where the streams of energy had been. “It seems your blood _is_ special, Hawke. Why am I not surprised?”

“My brother's blood would have done just as well.” The battle over, I yawned, but I had an unhappy thought. If I died they'd have to use Bethany's blood to get out

Anders put an arm around me and I leaned back, glad for his solid presence. A brief burst of energy from a spell and he handed me a potion made from Deep Roads mushrooms. The ones I'd gotten sick of as we fled to the surface.

“... I felt something... in my blood as it broke, not like those... It was different that the Joining. Deeper, somehow.” Bethany sounded confused.

When Mew made a loud demand at Anders, Fenris and Varric started too. He kept slinging Bianca away and bringing her out as we healed and cleaned up.

No one seemed to want to meet my eyes. Anders petted Ser Mew, but his eyes were strained.

After moments of silence, Varric said, “The sooner we find our way out of here, the better.”

Anders shuddered but didn't pull away from me. His almost continuous touch was not sensual but more for assurance. His mutter wasn't as quiet as it should have been. “I'm not listening. I'm not listening.”

It made my heart ache, and I held the arm around me.

“Come on, Blondie. You're strong enough to overcome this.” Varric sounded worried, more worried than even in the Deep Roads.

Fenris hissed like a cat. “He'll kill us all if he allows this insanity to take him.”

“Back off!” I snapped at them. “I will _not allow_ that to happen.” _Not again,_ I wanted to plead to Andraste.

Bethany looked at the men in surprise, though she had been quiet.

Anders hugged me and whispered, “Thank you, love. I don't... we don't want that to be needed.”

Deep mushrooms, even raw, helped extend my endurance, but they couldn't help Anders or Sister. I had to push on and be careful, at least a little further before we could rest. I didn't know how long they could ignore whatever they heard that I didn't.

_Was I the clear-headed one, or the only one who could not perceive the danger?_

Anders was already hearing too often, but I doubted we would see the surface here until we finished with Corypheus. We should rest soon.

We left the central tower across a bridge to the other side of the chasm. I was slowing to look at some rubble when a piece of the column moved. A huge genlock came into view and went berserk, thrashing into a column and finishing its destruction.

“That is one seriously heavy-looking shield.” Varric stood off to the side.

One bolt hit as I moved closer. The massive shield knocked me aside and I grabbed to the side of the bridge, praying this chunk of stone would hold as I tried to pull myself up without footholds.

I could see the flash of Fenris' great sword as Anders pulled me up with a grunt. We could only exchange glances before I ran to help Fenris. I slipped around to backstab and kept moving so Fenris and I kept bracketing the genlock.

When the darkspawn was dead, there was less bridge left than when we started.

The shield it knocked me over with looked too big for all of us together to lift, and I rubbed my sore shoulder.

Fenris came over to look at it too. “The ancient Tevinters made walls with shields like that, but it took half a battalion to hold one.”

I nearly told him that darkspawn _was_ half a battalion...

“You buy that one, Broody?” Varric was forcing the humor in his voice.

Fenris gave an aggravated sigh at the nickname. “Shield walls are for disciplined formations, every shield part of the whole. The Qun are more disciplined and value their soldiers more than the empire.”

We didn't spot Larius in the last few rooms before we found a stairway going down. I was uneasy, even if we were healthy enough. “Down and in? We forgot to ask how many floors this tower has.”

“I guess we need to look for the next seal in these Deep Roads.” Bethany sounded like Anders' dislike.

I would not accept being stuffed into the darkness so much that I forgot what I fought for. Soldiers got leave. “After this, you are taking more leave, Bethany. This mess doesn't count as leave.”

She didn't argue for a change, even if she rolled her eyes. Sigrun and her Provings, Anders and his clinic and Manifesto. Even the Warden had her Arling. Bethany didn't have anything outside duty. I'd thought his anger at the Wardens was related mostly to Justice and Vengeance, but Bethany had some too.

I couldn't exactly go and threaten a Warden Commander, especially one who'd know about my Joining as soon as I arrived. But it was tempting.

We moved down the stairs, and these stairs didn't seal behind us. The passage opened up and the room seemed misty, somehow. I rubbed my eyes, but it didn't change as we poked around.

A crudely carved figurine sat in a pile of debris; it wasn't worth much.

Anders grinned. “I think I know who to give it to. He could use a reminder about his being a pain in the buttocks.” At Fenris' snort, Anders added, “No one here.”

At a turning, I saw yet another shield with that old Warden arms on it. I'd seen dozens by then, but this one had that mark in the center.

I slowed. “Sister?”

When she caught up, she said, “I see it too, another mark.”

Looking around the corner, this cell was cramped in a narrower hall. The abomination's hands began to glow, but he couldn't do anything for now.

I didn't see the second mark, but I realized that the huge shields the genlock used were everywhere around us. They'd appeared to be buttressing the columns. I wondered how much had been stored here and forgotten?

When I approached the front of the cell, Papa's voice pronounced his binding again.

I missed him so much.

He would have known what to do. How to help Bethany.

How to save Mother. And Carver.

Moments had passed, and Anders said with a smirk in his voice, “He has _no_ dress sense. He's been in there for this long and his robes look like he stole them from a Qunari sarabas and stored them for a few years in a mud pit. Shameful!”

“You should know,” Fenris smiled a tiny bit.

“Yes! And you have to admit I'm much more stylish than that. True, black was easier. It goes with everything, blood or ichor, and getting those feathers took me years.” Anders moved next to me and squeezed my hand.

Bethany choked out, “Our uniform is something to be proud of.”

“Sure, on you, Daisy. But for this Sashamiri, not so much. Eliminating darkspawn doesn't really fit with keeping one like a pet. Gerav was an idiot, but they didn't deserve having their minds scrambled for the amusement of the Warden's pet.” Varric sounded angry.

“Why are we unbinding this demon?” Bethany asked. “Maybe it's here for a reason.”

“Because we are cleaning up after these idiots. Demon, darkspawn, or whatever. They've had it for ages. Have they really taught you any secret magics that makes you better at killing darkspawn? Or are they wasting lives for nothing? If those quiet ages after the fourth Blight weren't enough time, there never will be enough.” _I wasn't going to admit_ _that_ _just as important a reason was a hope to hear Papa's voice again when the binding dissolved._

The next room only seemed to have debris at first, but corpses and skeletons rose from the ground to attack. Before they were destroyed, Anders charged into the next room with a howl and began casting ice and storm without us in the room.

I struggled past Anders into the cold and saw a darkspawn casting spells too. I grinned because a single target was my forte.

Standing over the body, I saw the second marked shield beside me and I triggered it. I almost felt a breeze sweep through the windowless chamber. I turned back to the others and the captured abomination.

Now it was just the five of us facing the abomination in the cell. Its hands began to glow again.

It may have been prideful, but we had faced far worse over the years.

My first strike didn't prevent his summoning profanes of golden rock and fire, like in that ancient thaig in the Deep Roads. My blades worked better on the abomination than the rocks.

The abomination finally broken, the blue mist appeared at the edge of the cell again.

“I may have left the Circle, but I took a vow. My magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base.”

Paws whined partway through, but I just listened.

As short as it was, I'd be willing to hear it over and over.

Bethany knew it too. “That's... that's what Father used to teach me. _'_ _That which is best in me, not that which is most base._ _'_ Simple words to a foolish little girl. Father...”

I mopped my dry eyes. “I know. I miss him too.”

“Those are _not_ foolish words.” Fenris' voice was rough.

Wanting to say more, my voice wouldn't work, but Anders pulled me close. I had managed to stuff my grief aside between protecting the twins and Mother years ago, but I wished I to hear Papa just one more time.

Varric, Bethany, and Fenris were talking, but I let it wash by.

Anders pulled me back around the corner and I finally noticed that Paws was bumping me as I walked,

Then Anders lifted my chin so I would look at him, and his fingers traced back to lightly flow over my hair. “Love, you _have_ served the best in you and for those around you. Your father would be proud of his Champion.”

I wasn't convinced but I couldn't say why.

He sighed and held me tight, until I started to feel guilty I was this upset when he was hearing things.

“How are you, Anders?”

He looked down at me. “I'm fine now. It was a bit worse when you broke the seal. I should have expected that, not that I'm planning a holiday here to enjoy the wind-driven sand.”

“It's a little short on drinking holes,” Varric said from a couple of steps away. “But the prisoners of the Shaperite should sell well in the thaigs.”

I had one more thing to say to my mage. “If you start having problems, tell me.”

He grinned. “I'll hold my stuffed hawk against me and suck... my thumb at will. You will tuck me in at night?”

“Always.”

Varric shook his head and we moved into the room that had the warding mark. That room had open windows that looked out over the chasm at at the tower again. It was like we spun around the tower, moving down like a water vortex. If we kept going down, what was light we saw at the top?

We passed through more tunnels and chambers until Varric commented, “So does anyone else feel like we're walking into a trap? Just me? Good to know.”

He really hadn't waited for an answer and I met Fenris' eyes. Varric was usually the calmest.

Another room looked out at the tower again, where it loomed over us. It was dark above the crevice, but not so dark down here. There once had been a bridge to the tower but it looked long gone and I wondered if Papa had stood where I was right now.

I heard something and looked across the gaps to see darkspawn just moving silently into view in two different directions.

Anders took my hand.

Looking at Varric, I forced a smile. “It's too bad we didn't bring a bunch of rope ladders, we could just skip all this.”

“Next time, I'll add it to the shopping list, Hawke. Just one bronto's worth of supplies would make a big difference”

I was worried. We only had a week or so of our own supplies and I hadn't brought any for Paws. He couldn't eat anything down here, except any stale biscuits we found. We'd have to ration.

“How deep does this hole go?” Fenris looked over the edge.

Anders was cross again. “The tower can't be floating in midair, so there must be a bottom.”

Bethany had been quiet but finally said as we left the crevice again, “Father was here; I can almost see it in my mind.”

Papa'd died over ten years ago, and I'd hated that his face was no longer clear in my memory. Maybe I hoped to see him here, like I heard his voice.

When I opened the next door, I almost expected this bunch of darkspawn. Once in the middle of the wider space, I misjudged a leap and was knocked back like dried weeds.

Fenris kept their attention until I got my footing again and we finished the fight.

Inside a closed room, we found some supplies. What was more alarming was a table by the wall with small objects, including a scrap with writing on it.

Fenris hissed something in Arcanum.

When I picked up the paper, it was barely legible and a tiny piece flaked off. Fenris started to lunge to grab it but stopped. Less than two score words were legible, but I almost dropped it like it was burning.

I didn't exactly read want to read it aloud but I didn't want anyone else to touch it. _“In reverence_ _, you will approach the altar. Know that you come into the presence of Dum_ _bass_ _. With head bowed, say: 'Blesse_ _d_ _are you, Dum_ _b_ _a_ _ss_ _, silent and strong. We bring gifts, sacrifices to your greatness.”_

That got a snort from Fenris and a chuckle from Varric.

I wondered why it wasn't in the language of Tevinter. “This isn't Arcanum. How many Wardens worship a god of Tevinter ages later? How many Wardens came and went while this creature was a prisoner? There must be a path in and out for them.”

“That path might have collapsed or the magics lost.” Anders moved closer to peer at the words. “Chantry lore says Dumat taught blood magic to the first Magister. His followers entered the Golden City.”

“That _really_ worked out for them, didn't it?” Varric's returning sarcasm was welcome.

Bethany rubbed her arms. “Dumat was released by darkspawn and became the Archdemon of the first Blight, that lasted a hundred years.”

“Greater than a high dragon, once called a god, that Blight ended when he died.” Anders looked at the altar, very unhappy.

I never thought I'd see an altar to an old god, long dead. “Am I the only one who's suddenly wondering what could imprison a dragon or a god, down far inside the Deep Roads?”

“Bianca was just thinking the same thing, Hawke. There were no Wardens and Andraste came after the Blight.”

Anders flashed blue, so Justice must have taken interest even if he only looked at the paper before he was gone. “Too much knowledge was lost in the first Blight. It's hard to fathom how much... Now I sound like Merrill.” Anders looked sheepish.

“ _This must be destroyed, completely!_ Magisters claim to get much more power from the old gods when they refute even the Black Divine.” Fenris grabbed my other arm painfully.

“Fine.” I was more than a little angry from the pressure of his fingers. “Let go of my arm. Who'd be stupid enough to think a dragon would see us as much more than a snack, anyway?”

The paper was burnt to ash immediately and the rest was burnt to slag out near the window holes outside the room and we scattered the last fragments throughout the area.

When Anders and I reached the archway to the next area, I heard metal raking on stone and I got more awake and alert. I gripped Anders' hand in a spurt of nausea.

He stiffened and cast about as if listening. “Yes, love...” And then he barked out for the others, ““Darkspawn, that way, and a lot are coming.”

Bethany was already throwing up her defenses.

Varric brought his Bianca forward for fighting. “It does feel like a good ambush spot.”

Once we had the room to ourselves, I looked around. A small chest was in one corner and stuck under a broken pillar which came free with some lifting, scrapes, and magic. Inside were some lists for supplies and names with cryptic notes beside them. The only other surviving writing was a folded parchment, that had only been partly sanded to remove the crossed out text of the draft of a letter. The remaining text was enough to continue my earlier nausea.

_-x-_

_First Warden Jaecher, Weisshaupt_

_Warden-Commander Farele, Vimmark, Augustus 1004 TE_

_The creature can speak. It has a name, Corypheus. We have encountered darkspawn before who use words, but none individual enough to have chosen a name. This Corypheus appears unique among darkspawn, and has gathered many of its brethren to follow it._

_It would be wasteful to kill such a creature. If it can be captured, tamed somehow, its unnatural influence over the darkspawn could perhaps be turned to our favor. It is clear the darkspawn will never bow to human commands, but this Corypheus seems at times more human than beast. I have conversed with it, and though its thoughts are disordered and inhuman, it speaks of the Old Gods by their Tevinter names. I have wondered if perhaps he is no darkspawn at all, but a ghoul, so corrupted by the taint as to have become a new creature entirely._

_I recommend we find a way to capture Corypheus, hold it somewhere safe from both men and darkspawn, and study its unique nature. This will require magic, however, for Corypheus' own abilities are powerful. It uses spells both human and tainted, and has a strength that would shame any Magister. We must muster our best mages to face it and to hold it._

_-x-_

Fenris spat when he read the report. “How could they think to tame this Magister if they could not tame lesser darkspawn?”

Anders only gripped my hand, tilting his head as if another spoke.

“I don't see much choice between a different kind of darkspawn or a Magister who became a ghoul.” I couldn't imagine how they ever thought over all those ages that this was a good idea.

“I will have to report this to Commander Cousland.” Anders did not like saying that.

Bethany agreed, but she was under the command of the closer Warden-Commander who might know about all this, and didn't say anything.

Scouting ahead through the passage toward the next chamber, I felt skritchy vibrations in metal and stone ahead of me. I moved back as they were too many. “Darkspawn... ”

An ogre charged through the archway I'd just exited, and in one step reached close enough to swing at me. The wall cracked where his fist hit, and dust fell from the damaged wall onto my head.

I rolled under his next swing to get behind him; shrieks appeared and made communication impossible.

At least the noise didn't ruin my attacks. I couldn't spare the time to see if Anders or Bethany had trouble with their spells.

I ran, slipping behind the ogre for a backstab attack. It was always a thrill when one of those huge darkspawn fell down. That had not changed after my Joining. Then knocking shrieks aside, Fenris and I kept most of them off balance between kills. The mages and Varric attacked at will from a safer distance.

Few made it past Fenris and I, Varric and Anders were nearly untouched. Bethany, though, had developed a nasty habit of moving forward too far into the fighting. Anders usually healed her first, which was very fine with me. Her armor just wasn't as protective, even if she could heal herself a little.

Checking for any useful trinkets, Varric spoke while trying to sound casual. “Are you hearing the voices now too, Hawke?”

The still from the others said it wasn't casual enough.

“No,” I said shortly, hoping he'd let it drop.

The silence stretched out, and I could feel Varric's eyes on me. Probably Fenris too, but he didn't poke as much. Anders and Bethany stayed quiet.

_Void take it._ “I went through the Joining at Orzammar. I have direct orders from Cousland, to avoid notice as a Warden for a while.”

Anders came to stand next to me and check for injuries. His voice was sad. “This is her first time in the Deep Roads since then. Hawkes should be in winds and clear sky.”

Bethany glared at him. “You don't say that about me, Anders.”

“I'm sorry,” Anders said to my sister. “Your Joining was as much necessity as mine, Bethany. Dera's wasn't and I almost can't stand the thought that she will sink into cold pragmatism like most Wardens I've met.”

A low whistle came from Varric. “So we have three Grey Wardens, no wonder these darkspawn have seemed easier.”

Fenris made a rude noise. “That is also a consequence of our increasing skill over the years.”

Waving that debate away, Varric said, “No, having the Champion of Kirkwall under Grey Warden orders is a very interesting development. There's enough rumors about Warden actions in Queen Anora and King Behlan gaining their thrones. Adding the fame of the Champion to their quiver...”

“I didn't sign away my morals in the Joining, Varric,” I said tiredly. “I signed up for killing darkspawn and going with Anders on his Calling. They ask anything stupid, they can go play with the Qun.”

“The First Warden...” Bethany started to object.

“The First Warden doesn't scare me. Not after what Meredith and Orsino became. And they were far, far behind what happened to Mother.”

There wasn't much more to say right then. It really wasn't going to change most things. We were still hunted. The mage war was too big for either of us to do much, and not until we got out of this.

Varric would want more later but I wasn't in the mood, and I didn't want Anders angry or guilt-ridden.

When I moved forward again and into the next open area, I could see another cell with a desire demon this time. One mark was on the near wall and easy to trigger.

Her voice was muffled but still clear, getting gradually deeper and more familiar. “That echoing pain of loss, of years under a heavy burden with no one you can trust not to betray you. No one who _really_ cares for you and trusts you. Wanting so desperately... I can help you with that, my brave Champion, I can give my clever girl the wisdom and help she needs...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	22. Echoes of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is hearing voices, and they are not the comments left behind by Malcolm Hawke.

## Grey Warden Prison, Farele's Floor

## Anders:

 

The whispering was coming more often. Sometimes it was quieter, and sometimes fighting helped me ignore it. Holding Hawke close helped more. I wasn't about to test if that was love or the Hawke blood. Proposing the experiment might be worth it just to see what the reactions would be.

Still, carrying Hawke might get in the way as much as I thought it would be fun.

Sometimes the whispers were anonymous words that made no sense, sometimes it was a voice I barely remember like Uldred. By the time we descended to the next floor, the voice was clearer and it sounded like a mix of Irving and Vengeance.

His voice promising... promising we could use blood magic safely... promising destruction of anything down here. They were weak...

_**Begone, demon!** _

The voice taunted us in words I could barely hear, that the Wardens in the journals were weak to imagine they could control a something that powerful, that they should worship mages as proper, offering their service and blood...

_**Begone ghoul! They were fools, but not all have been tainted by your foul words. I will not be so fooled again!** _

The promises shifted to threats that the veil was getting thinner, and soon the prison would fail. None would resist. That he would break free of the seals in the Fade, that no Magister had the power to defeat him. 

“I'm not listening...” I suddenly realized that I'd said that aloud and Hawke looked alarmed when she met my eyes.

Varric and Fenris were frightened by what I said, too, and Hawke warned them. Her faith in me smothered the voice... for a time.

The stairs into the new level opened into a quiet room, with more fallen stone and deep piles of stone dust and dirt. Nothing but us moved and we poked around the chamber, still looking for answers. The picture was becoming clear enough, but maybe we might learn something crucial left behind by a dissenter in the Wardens.

I found an old crude statuette that looked like someone in robes, close enough to what Templars wore that the exaggerated arse would make for a nicely mocking gift, so I pocketed it. Hawke would not approve and neither would Cousland, but we wouldn't be allowed by either to respond to the Templar's hate.

 _ **He is not a Templar, we have never heard of his harming any mages who were not an active threat to innocents.**_

_He wanted to punish me and punish Hawke for what we did. That is not just. I would rather have died than she be conscripted._

An infinite second passed and then it seemed Justice sighed. _**We are too useful a tool against darkspawn. It is a just punishment for**_ _ **our**_ _ **carelessness, that we are always reminded of what our actions cost. We were even blind to Vengeance's blood magic.**_

_We never used it!_

_**But we knew we could and ignored the implications for so long.** _

Arguing with him didn't change all that much because nothing he said I didn't already know.

Justice didn't feel other emotions that strongly. We'd been prepared for execution for our acts, not these fetters on Hawke. In dark hours while Hawke was having a tainted dream, I wondered if Alistair enjoyed forcing the Joining on her.

This chat with Justice didn't take that long before we found another shield on the wall that was only two steps from a prison cell.

This one held an abomination, which always made me uneasy. This one must have started channeling energy as soon as he heard us, because his hands were glowing. He couldn't do anything with it with the binding intact, so Hawke and Varric searched the room.

This was a stand-off, for as long as the binding on the cell was intact. I followed Hawke and Fenris, looking back until I was in the next room. 

Like other chambers, it looked empty aside from debris and the detritus of a thousand years, but skeletons rose out of the dust and attacked. The veil wasn't quite thin enough for them to rise without help and no one else was in the room. As soon as most had been defeated, I ran into the next room, hoping I might catch the spellcaster with an ice spell.

Hawke attacked while the emissary was slowed and he went down fast.

I had to hold her for a moment, even if she was distracted by the Warden shield above us. I felt the blood magic wave from the spell's release. I had to wonder why there were enough demons roaming here that the elder Hawke needed to bind them. Why even bother to bind an abomination?

Hawke moved to hurry back to the cell. 

I'd be jealous, but I heard Malcolm's voice echo with the binding again. I wanted to hear what he said too.

_No._

I _was_ jealous. Even with their mage father gone that many years, Hawke and Bethany rushed to hear his voice, somehow preserved. Hoping to hear more.

It had been far more years since I had heard my father's voice, a voice so cold and full of contempt that I couldn't remember before that day with much clarity.

He called me abomination and a curse upon him.

_How did I forget that?_

Hawke looked around and checked that everyone was ready and I was glad to push that painful memory aside. I saw that the abomination was prepared again.

He summoned profanes as I threw up defenses. They seemed resistant to weapons.

When the abomination was killed, I heard Malcolm Hawke's vow like everyone else. He left the Circle, and if he did blood magic here, it was long past from what his daughters remembered of him.

It was a good vow, and much less death and gloom than the Warden one. That is what mages should live by.

While I was thinking this, both Hawke and her sister wilted from these wise words. I was surprised when Fenris moved next to Bethany, and our eyes met.

I pulled Dera around the corner for just a moment of privacy. Her father had to have been proud of her. I tried to tell her that but couldn't convince her. I was just about the most base choice in her life and I hated how it was slowly tearing her apart. 

Even with that, she held me so tight that my bones creaked.

The abandoned storage room had an unpleasant surprise. I didn't agree with the Chantry on much, but that didn't mean I approved of an altar to the Tevinter god, Dumat, at all. I couldn't quite believe that the five Archdemons had been gods, and praying to a dead one... 

They were dead, quite dead, along with the four wardens who killed them.

I had to laugh at Hawke's quick substitution for the Archdemon's name. Destroying the altar that was long past its day was oddly satisfying. How many other Grey Wardens had it helped twist like in those notes we'd found?

We moved further into the prison, encountering darkspawn every few rooms. Voices, unfamiliar or not, spoke to only to me when Hawke was examining Warden Farele's letter to Weisshaupt with Varric.

Velanna's voice offered conquest of the Chantry, one of the few things we'd agreed on. But that was easier to ignore, as the Dalish Warden would _never_ have been that eager to work with me.

What was clear from the pages we'd been collecting, was that Cousland would want to see them. The Warden-Commander at Ansburg was probably tainted by Corypheus and I'd bet my favorite staff that Cousland didn't know. How many Wardens thought this prison could possibly benefit the Wardens? How many would obey Corypheus if he escaped? Bethany wasn't having as much of a problem as I was.

I was ambivalent when Hawke revealed her Joining. I still felt guilty, but she didn't mention it to the others. I was still mulling on that when the next room had a third active prison cell that held a desire demon.

This desire demon wasn't insane like the other prisoners, but spoke to Hawke in a voice that quickly began to sound like their father's voice. Both Hawkes paled.

Hawke took one step away from me, her arms rising just a little, weaponless as the demon spoke.

 _ **No!**_ I sent all my fear into a burst to knock her off her feet and stun her.

I'd stunned the others too, but I heard a deep-throated growl from far, far too close.

“Hawke's not hurt, she has to stay away from that demon!”

Before I could see if the mabari was listening the demon's voice changed to Hawke's. “Anders. We can blow off this shit and find that remote island. We can share our magic and explore the Fade together every night...”

That was ripped from my daydreams.

“ _ **Begone, demon! You cannot tempt us with your false offers.”**_

“Tainted mage, useless and tainted spirit.” The demon used Hawke's giggle, so rare lately. “You secretly wish she could touch the core of your magic the way you can her... that she _knew_ you. But she doesn't know you. She wouldn't care for you if she knew about the old smell of burning wood and flesh. I can give her to you without compromise: someone who hangs on your every word and you will be able to indulge in every...”

I wasn't breathing as she was pulling on things I'd never admitted to myself and things I wanted to forget.

“Blondie doesn't really need you for that. You never had to hear them when you were trying to sleep in a camp.” Varric's imitation of lovemaking sounds caught my attention.

I turned to the side, my face flaming with embarrassment, and tried to collect myself; I saw Bethany was holding Fenris' glowing arm.

The demon's spell of words and want weakened, I felt ashamed. I dropped down to Dera's side opposite a protective Paws. Hawke was looking around with bleary eyes as I scooped her into my arms for a kiss, as I didn't know what else to say. 

The demon must have understood that her chance was past. As soon as Bethany opened the bindings, another roomful of corpses rose.

As they struggled to stand, Hawke said, “Into the cell.” She attacked the demon as Bethany and Varric joined me in the cell.

I didn't like being in a cell, but then we only had to fight three opponents instead of all of them. The corpses and demon died quickly.

When the desire demon died, Hawke stepped to the entrance and another memory of Malcolm Hawke's visit here was even more gripping.

As if he stood in the mist, Malcolm's voice was strong and clear, a leader and a mage. “I've bought our freedom, Leandra. We can go home now, us and the baby. We'll be together...

“I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one.” His voice paused, so many mages thought that too.

Hawke looked away.

Malcolm said one more thing, his voice full of sorrow. “May they never learn what I've done here.”

Bethany's voice was a mix of bitterness and surprise. “He was talking about you, Aldera. Mother must have been pregnant with you when they left Kirkwall. He didn't want a child with magic, and then he had me. He'd hate what I've become.”

Hawke turned, her eyes still wet. “Don't be a goose! This is _old._ You _know_ he loved you. What you've become is a lot more impressive than what you almost became, which was dead.”

“Look at the horrors around us. Sometimes dead is preferable.” Bethany only looked at the remains from the battle.

Hawke's brow furrowed. “Father didn't believe in giving up, and neither do you. Not really.”

“I'm not sure what I believe anymore. _This_ isn't what we were always told about the Wardens.” Bethany waved at the cell, shields, and dried out corpses with an angry chop. “Father must have asked the same questions I do in this horrible place. And the Maker allows this.”

“Father'd want us to keep faith, faith in our family, and faith that we would do what was best, not worst.” Hawke rubbed her face.

I grabbed her hand, to support her or be supported, I wasn't sure.

She threw me a brief smile. “What we do is important and has meaning; even if we don't see it yet, that doesn't mean it's meaningless.

Varric spoke without flourish. “It's the stories that give the meaning that lasts. Defeating the Arishok or the Archdemon, those tales will be remembered long after we're dust. Heroes do what others fail at, even the tragic ones.”

Bethany spoke dismissively to the dwarf. “You haven't seen the things I've seen.”

Hawke's face flinched like she'd been hit and then glared at her sister. “And you haven't seen the things I've seen either. You didn't have to see your sister dying before your eyes and be unable to stop it. And then what was done to... Mother. So don't use that condescending Warden shit on me, on us. Wardens do _not_ corner the market on horror. Wardens can't avoid life, even in the Deep Roads.”

“Mother...” Bethany choked out. “I need a thread of my old life so I can think clearly about this. Not these whispers. This mess needs to end.”

Hawke's hand twitched and for an instant I heard scratches on the stone.

Hawke crashed into Bethany, yanking her hand out of mine. Paws ended up sitting on both of the sisters, with a lick to both faces.

I heard a snicker from Varric in my first instant of surprise.

Face to face, they both started laughing and then hugged each other after sitting up when the mabari let them.

Bethany said, “He used to do that to Carver and you. I don't know how long until Carver realized it was deliberate. I miss Carver, he tried so hard. You even did that jig when he got upset.”

Hawke settled to scratch Paws' ears. “The antidote for every skinned knee, dead pet, and broken toy.”

“I miss you. And Mother. And now Father, again.” Bethany's voice sounded of a loneliness more like Kinloch's isolation in a crowd than the fewer Wardens in the Vigil.

“Bethany, I think he's fine. He's not angry we survived, he...” Hawke stopped. “At the Ashes shrine, he said that _when_ I fight darkspawn again, I was to kill some for him.”

Her sister looked sad at hearing about her twin, but then the darkspawn comment sank in and she looked thoughtful.

I had to speak, and touched where I'd packed away the Enchanter gem and Justice's ring. “No one got to speak more than a few sentences and those we met were, and weren't, quite as we knew them last.”

“You two have got to give me more details, Blondie. Puzzles, dragons, and cultists were exciting enough but this...” Varric shook his head.

“We didn't mention the bottomless pit or the riddlers that try to kill you if you get the answer wrong either. Some things shouldn't be published.” Hawke stood up.

“I don't publish _everything_ , Hawke.” Varric put his palms against his heart. “But these bits are important for finding that meaning.”

“After we're out of here, then. Let's move back a little for a better camping spot.” Hawke's face wasn't happy.

We made a cold and quiet camp in one of the rooms with a view of the passage so we couldn't be surprised. 

I took Hawke into the corner, ignoring the humor in the other faces. I held her close, leaning into the corner so we could talk quietly and pretend we didn't have an audience. “Love, I was so afraid. You weren't insulting or refusing her.”

Her head dropped against me so she didn't meet my eyes. “I wanted his advice so many times, and all I hear is silence. I can't even guess what he'd say anymore. Fleeing Lothering, it was still easy to know what he'd say: we had to survive. Gwaren, we sold almost everything we'd managed to carry, even his rings. I thought he'd approve of that training from that Crow, even the smuggler muscle left us alone more. But after the Deep Roads I couldn't hear his advice anymore.

“I'd failed to protect her.”

I held her face and kissed her, hoping to derail that mine cart. “Love, I was there. So were Bethany and Varric. For all we know Fenris was in the crowd. Bethany told your mother that she wanted to go. Without you or Varric, what would keep the Templars away?”

She relaxed a little and I added, “Whatever your father did to protect your family, he succeeded. He escaped from Kirkwall for the rest of his life and raised you and Bethany. I really wish I could have met him, but that would have only happened if he'd been captured. Bethany is still free.”

Hawke looked over toward her sister and sighed. “I miss them all so much.”

I smiled. “She's here now. I'm sorry I had to knock you over so hard like that. You were out for several minutes.”

“I knew she wasn't Papa. Maybe I hoped I could hear more of his thoughts.” Her smile was wistful.

“Maybe we'll find more seals and he will pass on his recipe for goat salve...” My saying that got me a chuckle and we just embraced for a while until she yawned.

I volunteered for watch as I doubted I could sleep through the whispering. Fenris and Bethany spoke quietly together after we ate but I was too tired to tease Bethany right then.

_**Rest.** _

_What? You aren't going to nag me about my weakness?_ I was too tired to get angry.

_**Rest, I will keep watch.** _

Something was wrong, but I just waited. He knew my stubbornness.

_**We have freed no mages and I do not serve my purpose... it is troubling to be useless.** _

Patting my own shoulder would be silly. _I don't think there are many causes more just than killing this Corypheus. How much of this affects_ _all of_ _Kirkwall too, and might explain a few things that we found there? The Baroness was an amateur compared t_ _o_ _this_ _ancient_ _Magister._

His mood lightened. _**I can keep watch.**_

I sat next to Hawke and ran fingers over her cheek. She moved a little closer without waking. But if Justice watched, I could not lie down. 

This prison had taught me more about Hawke, as well as I'd known her. It was becoming clear that Dera was very much her father's daughter, even more than Bethany. He'd made a deal with some Wardens to get a chance a freedom for himself and my Dera. So he could be a free mage and raise a child, and then three.

I looked down the hall and tried to imagine her as a baby with wispy dark hair and big, innocent eyes. Imagining her reaching for hanging strands of hair or a nosy cat followed me into glowing unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	23. Once More Into the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deeper into the Warden prison and the scattered pieces make more sense, even as Anders has more trouble picking out the real around him. They reach the first seal and its Guardian.

 

**Grey Warden Prison, Farele's Floor**

**Hawke:**

I noticed Bethany and Fenris were getting along more, they'd been talking about the staff she'd found before I settled to sleep. I didn't know what to suggest for them, as neither of them seemed happy with their current lives. I never would have thought to nudge them together after Fenris' tirade when we met him. Bethany had been there and looked very hurt. She hadn't said anything to him, but was quiet the rest of the day. I'd told Fenris what I thought about his gratitude after his rant, barely staying civil.

We got along and got to be friends, but not as close as some like Varric. I wasn't going to really forgive him for hurting my sister's feelings until he apologized. Maybe he had, with how they were acting, but I wanted to hear it.

Anders sat and traced my tattoo lightly when I tried to settle. I thought he was going to record some notes in his journal, like Varric had. As I drifted to sleep I realized that Justice's eyes were glowing. 

He saw me awake and he said almost quietly, “ _ **Sleep, Hawke.**_ ”

As I fell asleep, I wasn't quite sure if I dreamed the hand that settled on my hair.

Even with short watches, I felt groggy once we were all awake again. I'd spent most of my watch brooding about how tempting that the demon had been. Was this demon that much more skillful or was this a fatal weakness in me?

I was glad Anders interrupted me before I could agree to the demon, but now I could never be as sure. Anders knew me so well, was I that close?

Past the demon's empty cell, the next room had the remains of a body. The Maker alone knew how long it had stayed here undisturbed until nothing was left but a skeleton and the sturdiest equipment. 

Fenris bent over and poked at the body. “This was made in Tevinter.”

Surprised anything was identifiable, I moved over to look at what he found. His dislike was better explained when I saw it was an old bow. It must have been enchanted at some point, because it looked usable if I strung what was wound around it.

“I know that look. Got any space in your pack, Blondie?”

“At least it should weigh less than those big swords she kept dragging back to the city.” Anders bent over as if he was overburdened. That didn't manage to hide his grin.

Him, I could smack. “And how many magic staves did I drag back too, when you were busy at the clinic? Does anyone want it? I mean, look at that finish, Varric. Maybe Bianca would like to take a day off with the girls sometime?”

Varric grinned and shook his head, glad to play. “Can't afford her going on a shopping spree, Hawke. I'd have to actually go to Merchant's Guild meetings to make it up.”

I looked at everyone else, but it was a formality as I was the only other one to use a bow once in a while. It was hard to judge it without testing, but we could sell or drop it later. 

Anders fidgeted and finally blurted out, “While we're stuck down here Meredith could be burning the Circle...”

My stomach filled with acid but I tried to speak soothingly. “Anders, she became some kind of a lyrium statue in the Gallows late last summer. Remember?”

 

His eyes widened in fear.

Varric laughed and broke the tense silence. “Unless there's some really big pigeons leaving burning presents on her, that just won't happen, Blondie.”

Anders moved next to me until we were just touching and mumbled an apology as he petted his cat.

We were all silent as we moved though the next rooms, looking for clues and hints of its history. I was positive Sigrun had never been trained on this place.

Anders said almost tentatively, “One good thing about being trapped in an ancient underground prison, there's not a lot of Templars.”

I thought that was a good topic change. “There's a bright side to everything.”

“I could be quite comfortable here, actually. Clean the taint off the floor, maybe hang a few pictures... It might even be a step up from when I lived in Darktown.” He sounded nervous.

I was willing to talk about something more optimistic. “Yes, it might make for a new base of operations for Kirkwall's mage underground. You will let me know about it sooner, right?”I couldn't stop an edge of anger in my voice despite the mild words.

Mew was moved back onto Anders' shoulder and he spread his arms in mute apology as he spoke. “It's got potential.”

We went into the next room and I realized that what looked like a discarded shield against the left wall hid a live darkspawn. I ran forward with a stun grenade as Anders warned Varric and Fenris.

That big darkspawn and shield would trample us all if I couldn't slow him.

As I was stabbing him, Bethany called, “Many more behind us!”

Many took priority over one and I dashed in the opposite direction. After that I didn't have the time to think much as groups kept coming and we got strung out too much. The later ones included archers, so we were handy targets if we didn't move forward. 

When the last archer was dead and I couldn't feel any close to us, I moved back to where Anders had been standing in the original room. He looked fine, with no sign of Justice either.

That first one had been filling up a doorway, and I wondered why. Beyond was another pair of cells that looked like they'd never been finished. There were bones, piles of bones, mostly of full skeletons drifting like some weird snow.

I looked at the last larger room, central for the last fight, and there were too many bones there as well. More were scattered and broken now. But the piles were almost in drifts like winter storms gradually moved them about. 

_How many ages did it take to shift bones like a snowdrift?_

“I don't know Hawke, but that is a lot of years. And a lot of bones.” Varric was examining the skull for smoothness and strength.

So I had said it aloud. 

“Sister, I don't like this.” Bethany's voice from the other cell was full of dread.

Fenris darted next to her and looked at the book propped against and above a collection of candles. “This is another altar to... Dumat.”

Another skeleton in the remains of robes was propped with its back to the candles, some caked with dust and dirt of ages, others newer. So new it was another kind of alarming. The skeleton had to be a worshiper of the old god. The skeletons in the cell next to it had no remaining clothing. “Don't like it either.”

“ _Burn it all!”_ Fenris growled, putting his fist though the priest's skull. 

“None of these bodies were burnt or buried.” Varric looked at me, trying to pretend we weren't jumping to the same guess.

I shrugged. “They do seem to be an awful lot. How many Wardens could come here on their Calling?”

He nodded agreement with my doubts. Anders and Bethany burnt the altar items into nearly nothing before we went the other way.

We passed more cells, all with too many skeletons piled in sight of open windows looking at the tower and chasm. By the time the hall opened out into another chamber, I wasn't surprised to see piles of light dust in drifts like the bones. There were some kind of urns on the wall, spilling out a thin greenish mist. A pillar had partly fallen but the drifts and fog made me want to get out of here.

“Has anyone been counting those urns? How many have this mist?” My words almost rippled through the silence.

Anders' whisper carried too. “Last mist I saw like this was in Blackmarsh where the Veil itself was almost transparent. Demons crossed easily from what the Baroness did to her village. _”_

“Maker, this is too many bodies. No one was here to burn them...” Bethany sounded like a little girl when the bone piles sank in.

“Those notes say this place was built by the Wardens, but why would there be this many bodies if it was built only ten ages ago for a few prisoners? If there's a new binder like Papa every twenty-five years and a few Wardens to help, that's only forty missions. Wardens wouldn't be coming in between just to visit, as the Darkspawn can't get out either. This is far too many bodies for them all to be Wardens on their Calling.” I didn't want to say it, but the lie was too obvious to ignore.

Fenris did. “They must have been slaves to be this forgotten.Emerius is the name they still call it when they talk of retaking the center of their slave trade again.”

Anders looked grim too and was playing with his staff. “If this was where he was bound, I doubt the Wardens capturing him could have moved him at all. He was captured right here.”

“So if he was the leader who tried to breach the Fade and enter the Golden City. These were the slaves who died for that stupidity.” It was hard to think of this as a real place now; when I learned the Chant as a child it was a nowhere place like the Fade and Golden City. I was so angry at both the Magisters and the Wardens before us. They thought imprisoning a Magister like an artesian well was a good idea.

Anders was looking at the mist with alarm. “Careful, love. _**The veil**_ is very thin _**here.”**_

I wasn't about to lose my temper and I gripped his hand and waved at the misting urns. “Were these part of that attempt? Are these urns still doing whatever they did? Every set of gods I've heard of went away in ancient times. Was the breech they made ever closed? Who could we ask?”

Everyone looked troubled, but Justice emerged to speak. “ _ **I do not know. The Fade is vast, and we do not question what is.**_ ”

I huffed out a breath and realized Paws had put his head under my hand. “Well, I know what I'd like to see. This place needs to be cleaned out. Everything removed, reforged, buried, burnt, sunk in the ocean... whatever it takes. I'll escort the Divine myself if I think blessings from her will help. Not this...” I waved at the scattered bones and the sand made of rock and bone. “... left behind like some rotting corpse to ruin a well.”

“Just like the statues in the city, Hawke? That's going to be tricky with Blondie's war.” Despite his scoffing, Varric was pleased.

Anders sighed. “As much as I want freedom for mages to live a normal life, that does presuppose that anyone can live a normal life. Blights and Firsts take precedence.”

Bethany finally spoke. “The Warden Commander of the Marches may object... but I'd be glad to paint over this place with butterflies and nugs frolicking.”

Varric wasn't the only one to chuckle at that. “That sounds like a good idea, Sunshine. Rainbows and kittens on the wall would make all those blood mages look silly.”

I had a pang that Father had been a blood mage too, and I rubbed my stomach. While Anders and Bethany looked closely at the urns the rest of us poked around the ruin in the room. I looked out of the door at the next bridge. Dust was blowing across the floor of the bridge and through the air as I watched. I was pretty sure there was more darkspawn ahead but they weren't coming any closer.

That made me smile a little. I could watch now, leaving my Anders and Bethany free to study.

“Why is everybody whispering?” Bethany suddenly said.

I turned back. “It's been quiet. No one's said anything.”

She flushed. I worried. 

Partway across the bridge, I knew there were two of them, and they spun up their spells even as another big hurlock waved one of those massive shields. I dodged past him to attack from the back and saw the other one was an ogre. 

I thought I could finish him quicker as he had no shield. I heard cursing and bolts behind me in the other fight as the ogre noticed the puny Warden. 

He was slow to fight compared to the big hurlocks, and was only turning to swing at me when I jumped aside, remembering with a little sadness that one of these had killed Carver and they weren't much of a threat anymore.

Running again at his back, I jumped off a broken pillar and sank the Key into his spine, for Carver. Then I had to move quickly to avoid the ogre falling on me like the dragon had.

The hurlock was down and helpless so we were the only ones standing. Anders checked Varric and Fenris for injuries. 

The ogre was between the rest of them and me, and I turned to look into the tower while they scrambled past the body.

I must have missed some question from Varric as Fenris didn't ask much.

Anders said, “I've tried to forget about this side of myself. Justice is... so strong, sometimes the Wardens seem insignificant. But seeing that poor bastard brings the Calling back. The darkspawn taint, the call of the Archdemon... it's inside me, as much a part of me as Justice...”

That wasn't something to worry about today. “I don't think there's an Archdemon right _now_ , is there, Sister?”

She hid a smile. “No.”

Anders' voice got desperate. “You should have found someone else, love. You still could. You didn't need all the ugliness I brought into your life.”

“I've got to hand it to you, Blondie. You make that work _every_ time.” Varric's admiration was a double edged sword.

Bethany and Fenris were amused. Anders flushed.

Once it took me years to learn to discount most of his anxiety when it surfaced like this. I'd hoped it was fear of Vengeance's actions and long over, but he was doing it again from Corypheus' pressure. “I took that under advisement before the Deep Roads expedition. But. It. Didn't. Matter.” 

I put my arms around him hoping he'd break free of his anxiety, as he still worried too much. He relaxed finally and held me tight, as I smoothed his hair. It was time to get rid of the tiny braids. I missed running my fingers through his loose hair.

The only chamber for this layer of the tower held the second seal in the center. Four more pillars and basins were evenly spaced. They looked a little different, but in the center of the seal held something. When I stepped closer and squinted, I could see another pride demon, almost transparent and above the seal.

He wasn't moving, but that would end when I broke the seal. The symbols and lettering on the four pillars didn't tell me what each was. Strangely it was Fenris and Anders who understood the markings best.

“So, what kinds of enchantments are bound into this seal?” I would like a rune that used spirit energy.

Anders looked at me with a real smile. “Nearest to the door is one that will enhance your vitality, making your attacks easier, Hawke. This one will heal you during combat, which I think is a very good idea with you fighting _much_ too close to your opponents for my comfort.”

Making a noise, Fenris straightened. “The others would be _much_ more useful for Hawke. Her attacks depend on her speed, and increasing that can only make her more effective. The other charm increases the Key's punch through armor.”

“Easier attacks would be nice, I hate that I have to recover before I can attack again. Those seconds seem to last an eternity. You flag too, Sister.” Bethany fingered her new staff.

Varric rearranged his quarrels into a set. “She's got enough speed, but the armor of dragons and insane Templars are a bigger problem. Neither of us have weapons with mass like your blade, Broody.”

I wanted to laugh at how much each one picked what would help each of them the most. Deciding what rune to use was usually leisurely, but I could only do this once. Whatever magic held this powerful and tainted Magister through the ages was linked through this strange weapon.

They continued talking, but Anders' skin flared blue. “Hawke must be able to pierce through armor. Speed matters not if she cannot.” The blue faded, but Anders shrugged and didn't say anything else.

Bethany frowned from where she stood next to Fenris. “Speed means that dead opponents may never attack.”

Fenris smiled slightly at her, his eyes still mostly hidden by his hair. Her eyes lit up a little, and she carefully touched the bare skin of his arm.

I'd like all these enchantments, but my opinion was more like Varric's. I was just more useless against heavily armored or warded opponents. Without powerful spells or huge blades my daggers were less likely to hit a crucial spot and Carver had teased me mercilessly before Orzammar. “I agree with Varric.” 

In moments we were ready and arrayed around the seal platform.

Again Anders got too quiet, and watched as my blood dripped into the chosen basin. 

The glow was a bright blue, brighter than the sunniest day and I had to squint my eyes against it.

As the shallow basin seemed to fill, Anders hissed something and pulled me against him. He gasped when he did, but his support was welcome as I looked up at him.

To my shock, I wasn't sure if it was Anders or his spirit. Everything was blue energy. Then like a bolt, lightning flared from the symbol in the center of the seal platform and into the Key. We were thrown against the floor. 

I heard the sounds of Varric humming, Bianca's shots, and Paws' growls. Bethany and Fenris were attacking something I couldn't see from where I lay.

Anders held on to me when I tried to roll to my feet. “Void take it, Hawke. Let me heal you first.”

Muttering because I did feel weaker, I snarled back. “Maker's breath, _hurry!_ ” 

When I stood, the demon they fought was already injured, but it was so tall we couldn't really get at too many vital areas. I attacked from the back and Paws came with me, but we failed to get the right spots to hamstring it.

It didn't like that and disappeared, and it only took a moment for Paws to charge a spot on the other side of the room. What reappeared were three identical demons close together. One was closer than the one Paws was attacking, but I trusted him and attacked what he did.

I yelled through the shouts of combat and magic. “Paws is attacking the first one! Attack if you can!”

The demon didn't like where I put my daggers, but he didn't get a say. When Paws and I stood over the demon, the others disappeared. Were they illusion or summoned? I didn't really care.

But as I walked back towards the others, Anders cried out in a panic while looking at nothing, “Get out of my head!”

“We have to find a way to calm him down!” Bethany was still wreathed in her own magic and tense with eagerness to fight.

I ran over to grab Anders' hands, and he looked at me with his pupils so tiny as to be almost gone.

His hands traced up to my body as if unsure I was solid and real. Once his arms were around me and he was holding me tight, he whispered in a faint voice. “I'm scared. Hold me, love.”

“Always, for the rest of our lives.”

Anders took a shuddering breath and started breathing easier. “I think I mean that literally, Dera. It's quieter, easier to ignore the whispers when we touch.”

That gave me a pang, as I couldn't fight while standing still. I was a merely competent with a bow compared to Varric's mastery. “I don't think we can in a fight.”

“I know.” His voice was very small as his hands roamed in chaste touches.

While we were speaking, the others were looking at the rubble on the walkway that circled the seal room. Sections were blocked but it looked like we could still cross to the other side of the chasm.

Varric bent over and picked something up in the rubble. “Look, Hawke. Another cheap figurine? Did someone open up a factory out here?”

I laughed because I needed the joke more than it was that funny.

Holding Anders' hand, we crossed onto the bridge, both tense because the taint was very clear ahead of us. So clear I wondered why I couldn't feel it years ago.

Moving into view wasn't a darkspawn, it was Larius again.

“He is waking. The magic grows lax. He feels us walk where no step goes.” His words seemed a warning.

“Are you talking about Cory?” I wasn't about to use the name that seemed to frighten the other Warden, but a glance showed that Varric was smirking.

Larius was vague but earnest. “He calls. Like an Old God, he mimics their cry.”

“Can the rest of you hear his words? I figured it was just me.” Anders was clenching my hand. 

“Not _that_ much, Blondie. But I hear something.” Varric's smile was gone.

“He calls them to free him. The dark children and the light, any with taint in their blood,” Larius said.

I wasn't convinced he was right. Varric and Fenris were hearing something too, so it wasn't just taint. Papa's blood seemed to help my sister and I. Well, maybe the Key was too. “If he isn't an Old God, what is he? Human, demon, darkspawn?”

Shaking his head, Larius sounded more intelligent. “More than darkspawn. More than human. He thinks. He talks. He pierces the Veil. He wants what was once his. ”

If he'd been a human Magister that sounded more like a very, very powerful ghoul to me. But arguing with a nutter would prevent his sharing what he might know.

“Such a darkspawn... Wardens call them 'awakened.' We have seen them only once.” Bethany sounded worried.

She knew less than what Anders and even Sigrun told me.

Anders snorted this time, but began to glow in anger. “ _S_ _aw once?_ That's the Wardens here, always so sure of everything. _We_ saw the Architect ourselves in Amaranthine when darkspawn still made armies. This one was stored away in this prison to fester for ages. Marcher Wardens knew about this place, and told their sister-Warden there was only one? Our vows are victory over the darkspawn but they think tricking secrets of darkspawn magics is valuable? _As if learning his secrets was just._ Trinna knew that a demon's bargain wasn't enough when _we argued_ against the Architect. It's an extortion that will never end.”

Bethany waved her arms helplessly. “I'm sorry, that was what they taught me.”

He relaxed into a simmer, and I spoke to a grotesquely smiling Larius. “How could this Cory be sending people after me if he's asleep?”

“He can call, dream, but not know. When the seals are gone, he will wake. And he must die.” Larius' voice held a familiar grim determination. 

A determination I heard last in a tiny inn along a Fereldan road and in Orzammar, from the Warden.

“Why are you down here? How did you survive?” Fenris seemed morbidly curious, even if not as angry as with abominations.

Larius was still talking. “The Calling. The music. It is our death.”

Varric said as an aside, “That explains your lute playing, Blondie...”

Anders glared at him. “The Wardens say once the corruption goes far enough, the darkspawn can't sense you anymore.”

“But you're supposed to die after that.” Bethany sounded a little betrayed by Larius' still living.

“Yes. I lived, but I died. The corruption feeds me. So many years in darkness...” Larius was the voice of grief.

“When you run off, where do you go?” I wasn't sure if he evaded saying anything useful deliberately or because the taint had rotted his mind.

Looking back and forth, he scuttled away from us. “I know the darkness before the seals. Here, the voice is too strong. I cannot stay.”

“Corypheus can dream and not know?” Anders didn't seem interested in chasing after Larius. “That sounds like he's been bound in the Fade somehow. Then his taint alone keeps his body alive.”

Fade things were messy, so this limited our options. I said, “He's not like Feynriel, then. He's doesn't have complete control or he'd have stopped us... more directly.”

Fenris spat. “Maybe he does. Maybe he wants us here. Magisters indulge in plots within plots for mere amusement and have no mercy, even for tools.”

No one had anything to say for that and we finished crossing the crevice.

The next room was empty of anything very interesting and Bethany hunched in on herself. “That corruption... that's what I was saved from.”

I looked at her, unsure what she was getting at.

“You wouldn't have let it go that far, though. You'd have done anything,” said Bethany with a glum satisfaction.

Remembered panic bloomed again. Panic that my sister was dying on my watch and then chased away by anger. “Desperate measures like that shouldn't have been necessary.”

“Maybe. But thanks.” Bethany smiled as we entered another dark hallway.

When it turned, I looked down at a closed door, going further down into the dark. I gripped Anders' hand, and looked to confirm he was holding up. His smile was faint and forced.

Varric was the last to arrive, though his failure to comment on Anders and I holding hands, as well as Bethany and Fenris staying fairly close, was getting very loud.

To stop that smug silence, I spoke. “I'm surprised you agreed to come, Varric. You hate being underground, and you avoid the Carta the same way you do the Merchant Guild.”

“There's no way I'd miss watching you make those motherless nug-lickers cry. I admit I _didn't_ think they were this crazy...” Varric was back to looking amused.

I thought it was time to poke him about some of his epic exaggeration. “When you tell people about our escape from Lothering, why do you make it sound like I had food all over my face?” 

“You are larger than life, Hawke! I had to give you a few flaws, just to make you approachable.”

That sounded like a compliment... at first. “Did you just call me fat?”

“Yes. That's pretty much how I tell it.” He was humoring me. “'Hawke rolled into the fray like a gigantic pudding, covered in gravy.' It's more dramatic that way.”

That made me frown, even more than his usual. “I'm not sure about the epicness of this tale.”

Bethany made a disgusted sound. “That's bad, even as a joke.”

Varric complained, “Everyone's a critic.”

There were limits. “Wait'll I finish my book about the dwarven archer whose chest hair fell off in shame because he kept missing every target, enemy and lady.”

He mimed that I wounded him, but we were both grinning. I was beginning to doubt anyone would recognize me between Meredith's statue and Varric's purple prose.

The stairway was much longer than the others, and far less finished. 

When it opened, it took a moment to realize we were entering a cavern, complete with stalactites and stalagmites like jagged teeth between us and the great space. Loose dust blew around our feet, even with our distance from the light.

Stretching ahead of us was almost an open air hallway with rock filling one side, and a series of natural columns on the left. To the left beyond the columns was unhealthy looking water. Further ahead, some worked columns were broken and the hall became a causeway leading to what looked like the base of the same tower, some pale green and misted distance away. 

Reaching the tower again was not going to be easy; the pillars and causeway had collapsed over the ages.

Anders gripped my hand and I could hear his swallow, before I could come up with a quip.

Fenris asked, “Did you hear that?”

Even he was hearing things now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	24. Into the Dead Pools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deepest part of the Warden prison has unpleasant surprises, even as the dreams of the ancient darkspawn are washing over the group.

**Grey Warden Prison** **,** **Tower Base**

**Anders:**

 

We moved down the stone stairs, worn by ages of Wardens and whatever else got trapped inside by Sashamiri's magic. I gripped Hawke's hand, a constant reminder that relief was only that far away.

She looked at me often, with worry in her eyes even if she said nothing.

I couldn't assure her of anything because it was getting harder to separate Corypheus' dreams and the things he's done from my own thoughts...

They seeped into my head, like a fog in a remote valley. I almost expected to see more figures on the stairs, but when I turned my head, nothing was there. I nearly stumbled on the wrong stairs. A glimpse of Fenris dismissed him as only barely useful. That was too like my sometime opinion from his attitudes, but I never thought of the elf as negligible.

What really scared me was when it seemed like the others with me were all watery and altered, as if I was in the Fade and they only dream versions of themselves I had in my own head. Hawke's continuing grip of my hand kept me anchored.

I was dreading trying to sleep. Echoing sounds were of things I'd never heard before, choral voices making what seemed a pleasant background, until I heard that the voices were singing Arcanum and the smell of power and blood filled my senses. I paused, pretending to look at some debris and looked around until I was convinced the sickly green water wasn't blood.

Justice was almost hiding, he was so alarmed. The power bleeding from the Fade and slowly drowning us, was scaring him even more than me. He wouldn't, maybe couldn't, explain why his defiance against Vengeance couldn't meet this.

Used to him being angry or coldly rational, this was strangely new. I was trying to calm his silent paranoia even as I was drawing comfort from Hawke.

Dera didn't say anything when I pulled her close, yet again. Touching her, I could breathe better. Reluctantly, I let her walk away until we only held hands again. Combat helped me focus.

Ser Mew wasn't happy that I wasn't petting him as much, but I would have to make it up to him later. I didn't want to think there wouldn't be a later.

Hawke led us along the remains of a causeway, until we saw it had fallen, collapsed by fighting or time. The bottom of the Warden-Dwarven tower was clearly visible, with dust blowing in the light coming down from above. But where we stood, the great cavern had pools of green water and mist that eddied in stray breezes from above.

Bethany looked at the primitive buildings off in one direction. “This feels like the Deep Roads, but it doesn't.”

“I'm glad it wasn't just me. There's a lot more light, though.” Hawke studied the path to the tower.

“This place is giving me a headache.” Varric rubbed his forehead.

I cast a little healing for him. “Darktown is better. No darkspawn there.”

Hawke pointed at the stairs dropping down to meet the gap in the causeway. “This was a much shorter path.”

“The path we passed only moves down and in the wrong direction... into the dark as if there is no sky above us.” Fenris shook his head.

“That's the Deep Roads for ya, Broody. See why I'm not that interested in moving to Orzammar?” Varric looked at the roadway.

I tried to roll my head and unkink the strains in my neck and shoulders, but they weren't that physical.

We backtracked and took the only open path, toward what must have been dwarven barracks as they built the tower. They must have been new to the surface to prefer this cavern. There were roughly hewn walls in sight, and this area was clearly unfinished.

At one alcove made by broken pillars, Paws barked. 

Hawke moved closer, towing me behind. She scratched Paws' ears and praised the mabari.

Varric moved the remains with the toe of his boot. When no rotting smell drifted up, he said, “That looks like Legion of the Dead Armor. It's an Orzammar thing. No matter your crime, if you join the Legion and vow to die fighting the darkspawn, your name is cleared.”

Hawke frowned.

“The Warden Commander at Orzammar, Sigrun, was in the Legion already when we found her at Ka'Hirol and she had her Joining. She's not as dour as you'd expect.” Even with the strain, remembering Sigrun made me smile. “She recruits at Provings between missions.”

Varric hummed and then pulled a journal from the corpse, leafing through the pages. “This sounds interesting, his name was Maley Haren and he was definitely in the Legion.”

When he reached the end, Varric read out loud. “ _It's ironic. Hearing of Garen's crime first gave me the courage to confess my own and join the Legion of the Dead. Knowing that a Paragon's son could give in to the same base passions as a mere merchant, commit a murder even fouler than mine...Yet he was sentenced to die in the Deep Roads for murdering his sister, not even offered the chance at the Legion.”_

I'd moved closer to Hawke, close enough to feel the comfort of her warmth. I ached to pull her closer, and not just because of the Magister's dreams bleeding over me. We hadn't been really intimate since our time in the safe house, and the Deep Roads was _not_ the place.

Varric flipped more pages. “That sounds like what I heard happened during the Blight, too.”

Dera hugged herself and I put my arms around her. “Parents' hate is bitter poison.”

Varric started reading again. “ _I am grateful every day for what the Legion gave me: a family, a purpose, and my name is clear. So when the Paragon learned that the Carta were responsible for the murder, not h_ _er_ _son, I was the first to volunte_ _e_ _r to retrieve the prince. It's not right that he should be the only one who doesn't know he's been exonerated.”_ Closing the pages, Varric added, _“_ The Legion of the Dead... sent after Paragon Garen's heir. Why does that sound familiar...? I think Garen was someone in the early Exalted Age. Hundreds of years ago.”

“Do you think they found him?” Bethany asked.

“Who knows?” Varric's shrug denied his persistent curiosity.

“We're pretty far from Ka'Hirol and Orzammar, there must still have been more open roads then.” I thought it unlikely that he was rescued.

We moved downhill and a pack of deep stalkers spread out around us. Fenris sounded surprised by the dark-dwelling lizards, and I didn't think we'd seen them too often in those little spurs of the Roads, here around Kirkwall. They weren't as bright as mabari, but they were an animal pack and worked together better than most bandits.

I gritted my teeth when Hawke sprang away and the whispers got louder. I moved closer to Bethany, wondering if either of them would mind if I grabbed her hand.

Paws nosed my hand and stayed next to me as I swept a fan of ice around myself. There were more of them, safe and just out of my range, ready to harry those with blades. But Varric sent barrages of bolts into them.

Fenris moved to the center of the group to get their attention. Bethany crushed and slowed most of the near ones, before she cast fire and ice spells too.

Varric and Hawke finished them off as they attacked the elf, one right after another, quickly, like dominoes falling.

When only our group remained, Hawke observed, “No more bone piles down here. There should be if there'd been thousands of Wardens who came here on Calling.”

“Those are animals, are they not?” Fenris asked. “I wonder why they are not tainted if they live here.”

Bethany made a face. “Sometimes they are the only food that can be found down here.”

Hawke rejoined me, slipping her hand into mine and I pulled her close for a kiss that almost made me feel normal.

Fenris' words seemed to come from far away. “How is it you get into these situations so often, Hawke?”

Hawke pulled back, worry still in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Attacked by dwarves, approached by strangers, stumbling on ancient riddles, dealing with free mages... madness.” Fenris didn't sound sure who was mad.

“I don't know why it's like that. Fate, I suppose.” Hawke didn't really look for the madness.

He sounded angry. “'Fate'” is a word for the Maker's poor sense of humor.”

I happened to see Bethany's face when he said that and her lips thinned with a small glare.

The next clump of almost buildings we passed through put us in another more open area. It was like a village for darkspawn, since there were no Paragon statues or any other living tools or artifacts.

There didn't seem to be any Broodmothers either, and I'd be glad to never see those again.

Bethany made the same observation. “It almost looks like a village...”

“That water looks like it's on fire somehow, not like the lava we've seen before. With green fire.” Hawke didn't like the differences between here and the other Deep Roads, either.

So I squeezed her hand. “It matches your eyes.”

I only realized that came out wrong when a trace of disgust ran over her face. Then I hoped I could pretend I hadn't said it. That worked sometimes, with her.

“It matches Broody's eyes, too, but you didn't say that to him.” Varric didn't get my hope.

I wanted to salvage something, some dignity from my error. “Ser Mew has green eyes too, and Fenris doesn't look at me like they do. That makes a big difference in what I say.”

Bethany and Fenris were quiet. Actually she had dropped back closer to Varric as we moved forward.

The next dried skeleton didn't have a journal. He or she had been a Grey Warden, from the armor. This armor wasn't salvageable, but there was a staff that was attuned to fire. Bethany didn't seem interested either, she was enjoying the one she'd found after we'd killed the desire demon.

A few minutes of cautious advance and Varric spoke. “I'm glad you told Aveline where we were going. If we never come back, maybe someone will send a search party after their Champion.” 

With a laugh, Fenris said, “As if that will help them with this prison when all the Hawkes are here.”

“Shatter my hopes...” Varric grinned, holding at his heart.

Just along the broad path, a hall made of rough stone walls sat on the edge of the glowing water. This one had an open doorway and it was no surprise when Hawke and Varric drifted in that direction as we walked. 

Inside the door, in place of a wall along the one side were pillars half-sunken in the glowing liquid. I was reluctant to touch it and was glad no one else seemed to want to either.

Another body was near the edge of the pool, but not wet. Closer, I could see the distinctive skull of the Legion again as I ignored the phantom chorus singing something martial.

Hawke let Varric have the journal when they found it.

Varric, the storyteller, was careful when he opened the book and began to read it aloud. “Let's see. Hmm, it's the log of one Karles Aratack, who was a commander in the Legion of the Dead. Ah, here begins the last section. _'_ _Paragon Garen refuses to give up. We're the eighth Legion un_ _it_ _s_ _he's sent after...”_

Varric paused here for a moment. _“..._ _Tethras in the past five years. None dare tell h_ _er_ _that after so long alone in the Deep Roads, Tethras is certainly dead. The Paragon insists_ _s_ _he will see h_ _er_ _heir restored to his rightful place. May the ancestors favor h_ _er_ _cause. We'_ _v_ _e followed the paths of the other Legionnaires, and so far, we seem to be on the right trail. We're in a section of the Deep Roads that appears to have been altered by human magic, so perhaps we'll find some new clue here. We're going in tomorrow, Ancestors be with us.”_

Altered by Human magic? Which time, by the Magisters' attempt to cross the Fade or the Wardens' sealing this place into a prison?

Varric closed the book with a snap. “That's where I know the name! Tethras Garen should have been the heir to the Garen clan. But he was believed to have killed his sister and sent into the Deep Roads to die. When the real murderer was caught, they tried to find him. They never could. Instead, every Garen heir from that time on took the name Tethras in his honor. One of them became a Paragon in his own right and founded my clan.”

I liked this story. “So this is.. kind of your ancestor they're looking for.”

Looking thoughtful, Varric tucked the book away. “Not directly, but... a little closer than I like to come to my past, you know.”

“You have a past, be thankful,” Fenris said.

Hawke tried to cajole the too quiet dwarf after a moment. “Look at it this way, Varric, they’ll make for some exciting rescues for him when you write a stone heart-breaker book with him.”

“That would make for a new twist, trapped in a forgotten Warden prison.” Varric looked abstracted.

I couldn't be sure if the idea cheered him or he was faking it.

“How can anything live here? What do the darkspawn feed on?” Fenris aimed the question in the direction of Hawke and I as we moved forward, instead of the closer Bethany. 

I must have missed something.

I slowed to answer, even though I thought Hawke knew. “They don't eat. The taint sustains them. You don't want to know more, rea...” 

Varric interrupted. “I hope nothing's going to jump out of that stuff.”

Hawke was already moving forward even as the mabari howled. “Big ones!”

_**Distractions again! Foolish mage! The Magister is choking us!** _

A flash of silver and blue and Bethany ran ahead of both Hawke and Fenris, while Hawke was rolling a grenade at the genlock. It seemed to have little effect as the genlock alpha braced his shield and knocked us all aside.

The sight of Bethany arcing up through the air in a spray of blood and Hawke and Fenris' shouting her name was the last thing I remembered before I was picking myself up off the ground. 

_Justice, you distract us in a fight and we will drown!_

Varric had been knocked back further behind me. “Hey! How about some sympathy for the one who's closest to the ground here?”

Paws must have nosed Varric, by the echo of the dwarf's saying his name.

That gave me a needed smile.

Hawke and Fenris were having trouble taking the genlock down when a group of archers and a hurlock moved into the fight. The hurlock alpha was nearly as dangerous as the genlock one. 

“Another alpha, Hawke!” I shouted as I caged the genlock. The spell might kill the weakened darkspawn but not the fresh, but it _would_ hold him.

Hawke changed targets and I froze him just as she got there. The archers were only close enough to catch two in a fireball. Healing was next as I realized that Bethany and I were standing close.

It was easier next to her too and I shifted to what remained of my spirit healing disciplines and healed everyone.

Suddenly I was on the other side of the common and lying against a wall and hill and Mew was yowling from some cover. Looking up, the genlock was standing on me and about to drop the edge of that huge shield across my gut. My head echoed and I could only watch it happen.

I wasn't actually afraid, my only thought was, _with his strength, it d_ _id_ _n't need to be sharp to cut me in half._

Hawke appeared over me with a shout, and the shield knocked her aside instead, as Paws hamstrung the hurlock.

The spawn fell over and I scrambled away as Hawke and her mabari finished the genlock off. I'd wrenched my knee trying to get from under him and had trouble standing to attack again.

By that time Varric, Fenris, and Bethany started to come over to where I was trying to take a step.

Hawke lost all patience. “Get off your feet, you idiot! Fenris!” Then she threw her arms around my waist and lifted me off the ground with a grunt.

I ended my cry of pain at my knee by biting my lip, but there was less strain as soon as she had. With her holding me this tightly against her, I felt light and free of whispers again, the best since the abomination.

Other arms, less gentle, helped take my weight and I was carried back to that hall with the old Legion corpse. Mew looked up at me with big eyes.

I insisted, “Put me against the wall so I can work on it.” 

Bethany helped me reset and soothe the ligaments. It wasn't fatal for a Warden, Larius must have had a similar injury without a healer by the way he limped.

“Should we rest here? It hasn't been that long has it?” Hawke looked across the gently bubbling and glowing water toward the base of the tower.

No one spoke.

I didn't want to stay here and let it finish healing by resting up properly. “I don't know how long I can resist his dreams, love. We should move on, as soon as possible.” I felt guilty to slow us like this.

“Don't worry about it, Blondie. I can't say that I want us to stay here very long either.” Varric included Fenris and Bethany in his wave, and they didn't deny it.

Hawke looked grim. “Long enough to eat something and rest, maybe like an hour or so? Anyone who can doze, should do it.”

“I will watch,” Fenris said.

When she finished eating, I spread my legs as I pulled Dera closer to sit. With her against me from head to toe, I could almost forget the dreams and singing and concentrate on her solid and real body against me.

The others pretended to ignore us, though Fenris and Varric talked nearby and Bethany dozed as well. Hawke's soft breathing led me into a doze.

“Anders...” Hawke was still in my arms, so much that I could feel the vibration as she spoke. “It's time for us to move on.”

I felt slightly more rested and any residual pain in my knee was gone. Standing, I reached to take her hand, again surprised that she forgave me last summer.

The others looked ready too.

Fenris started. “Did you hear that?”

Before anyone could reply, Paws nosed him and the elf relaxed. Varric didn't look as fresh either.

Looking closer, neither did Bethany or Hawke.

Tracing the lines in her hand, I asked Dera quietly, “Love. Are you hearing things too, now?”

She frowned and whispered back. “I don't think so. There was something when I slept, but I don't know if that's a regular nightmare.”

I didn't know either. She hadn't had that many Warden nightmares so far, but she hadn't Joined as close to a Blight either.

Some more stone made for an open gateway, and the stone walls and ground was less like a cavern. The plain stone walls almost loomed. Steps led up and away, and this was less a village and more a city. Not that it resembled the thaigs, but the walls and buildings seemed closer to buildings on the surface, even if too plain.

The closest stair led up and Hawke pulled me along with her. 

I stepped in a puddle that splashed high and wanted to shake the wet off my free hand. “Ugh. This is much... wetter than I remember the Deep Roads.”

Bethany said, “Underground rivers are more often water than lava. Sometimes it felt like weeks between times I really felt dry.”

Hawke and I had gotten partway up the first set of steps, and I was looking around. I would pretend, if asked, that I was looking for attackers, but it was curiosity.

Fenris was about as far up. “We _are_ going in the wrong direction. The tower is that way.”

“Nothing in the Deep Roads is straight and clear.” I thought the straightest path usually was destroyed long before by defenders.

“We need to scout a bit, we don't have any Warden maps this time.” Hawke was at the first landing and only slowed a moment for me, before taking the next step.

Varric said, “Are we really in the Deep Roads? There is natural light over there and these breezes could be a blizzard in the winter.”

“Feels like the Deep Roads to me,” Bethany said. “It just has fresher air.”

The second riser had fewer steps and ended in the middle of an 'L' shaped platform that doubled back. Hawke was looking at a building off to the right, but I didn't like the block of sharply carved stone, like an altar. 

This time I pulled Hawke toward the altar before letting go of her. Maybe it was another letter home or a map, it lacked the candles.

Hawke called back and down. “Found something.”

I carefully opened the scroll. The writing was barely legible and concerned a Rite... I crumpled it and lit it on fire, throwing the ashes off the far edge of the platform. “Instructions on how to worship at an altar to Dumat.”

Varric shook his head. “How many were dragon cultists in here? All of them?”

“I'd think there'd be _one or two_ who worshiped the Maker or Creators or something else over the years.” Hawke's voice was joking, but not completely.

But it made me wonder how many Wardens might be Dumat followers, even now. I was sure in Ferelden, but elsewhere, I now doubted.

“Sister! That is no reason to joke! This is terrible that no one removed these in all the years since the first Archdemon.” Bethany was offended.

“We're destroying them now.” Hawke spoke in a flat voice and slipped her hand in mine. “There's another building, over that causeway and isolated. What do you think it is?”

“Maybe a crypt? They'd need one for any who returned to the Stone.” Varric rubbed his chin.

Bethany had quieted and looked in another direction. Her voice was disgusted again. “That building has an idol inside.”

“We can destroy that altar too,” Fenris said.

That statue on the altar didn't look as big as Andraste in most Chantries. It was ugly even from here. 

We moved toward the crypt instead. At the end of the walkway, steps led down into the building. Despite the seeming size, there was only one chamber inside. Six unlit braziers and a bier that looked dwarven.

There weren't any statues. “We should light those torches.”

Hawke asked, “Why?”

I just looked at her, my jaw hanging.

She reached over and closed my mouth; she snickered. “Varric?”

Varric moved up to the sarcophagus. “The carved part seems part of the full block. I'm sure this carving is very symbolic, but honored ancestors are usually stuffed in stone alcoves. I'm not sure the carving is for one of us, either.”

“He's got a beard, Varric. You know what they think about human beards.”

“Light the torches, love. It's tribute or a puzzle.” I started to light the nearest, but the spark died and that made it interesting.

Hawke examined another. “There's a lever here.” 

But when she adjusted it, not only that brazier burned but so did another. Closest to the bier, Varric lit another, but the one next to Hawke went out.

Hawke and Varric exchanged grins and they returned the levers to off. They chattered as they tried combinations systematically in groups. Five at a time didn't take long and four wasn't that much longer. But after some rude words they started from one at a time next.

The room warmed a little every time the flames flared up, but I was tracking progress.

Bethany and Fenris moved outside to keep watch. I hoped she'd kiss him. Maybe he'd be more friendly to mages then. That usually worked in Kinloch.

Suddenly the light in the chamber brightened and I heard a deep click as the rogues crowed their success and looked inside the bier.

“This ain't a tomb. I don't know what it is.” Varric raised a shield with axes and a bear.

Hawke reached in and I heard the sounds of heavy coins. “That is a lot of money.”

Varric pulled up bits of fabric. “There's three gloves here and some bolts I could use, too.”

“Are you finished?” Fenris had stepped down from the outside stairs.

Hawke and Varric swiftly gathered and split the coins. Hawke took the warden scout gloves.

When we got outside, Bethany led the way toward the next building. 

The stairs started at the threshold and moved up, getting wider. That statue sat on the altar, and it was very ugly. It didn't look like a dragon, it didn't look like anything. Sitting on the altar were gold plates, and possibly the remains of offerings.

Looking at the statue made me uneasy... maybe I needed a stronger word than uneasy.

“This doesn't feel like a Chantry, or a Paragon hall.” Bethany hadn't moved even a full step beyond the top of the stairs, and hugged herself.

Hawke agreed. “The Dalish statues, even the Dread Wolf, were friendly, compared to this.”

Fenris stood next to Bethany just barely not touching her. He spoke, his voice low with loathing. “It has four arms. Destroy it now.”

“Right,” Hawke agreed, stepping forward warily with her weapons out.

A voice rang through the chamber, loud enough to make my head echo. “Blessed are you Dumat, silent and strong, secret and...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	25. The Paragon's Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Among the foundation and roots of the prison tower, what does one do when finding a Tevinter shrine to a dead god that still has power?

**Grey Warden Prison** **,** **Tower Base**

**Hawke** **:**

Those gloves we found were alarmingly supple for the age of the things we found in the sarcophagus. These were only scraps of bones, long ago smashed by other visitors who wanted a secure place to stash things. Most of it was junk now, but the gloves and shield seemed brand new under a heavy layer of old dust.

Varric put on one of the other half gloves that went well with his coat. “This is smooth, too bad it's not in a matched pair.”

“You want to wear Warden gear? You _like_ trouble.” I thought he wasn't as neutral as he often pretended.

“Fenris was right, you attract more trouble than your share, even aside from Blondie's cause.” Varric didn't exactly meet my eyes. “Had enough of all that with Bartrand.”

I wasn't sure what he wasn't saying. I spread my arms and said, “I take that 'unprovoked harm' part of the Chant seriously, Varric. So much of it has been blaming and punishing the wrong people for when shit happens. I hold individuals responsible for their choices. Patrice deserved the blame for Saemus' death, the collapse of his father, and provoking the Arishok.”

“...and brother dear blamed the world that he wasn't a deshyr in the Orzammar Assembly instead of shoddy deal-breaking.” Varric looked at Anders who was briefly oblivious in thought. “When does it stop?”

“When we die and ask the Maker or the Stone if we guessed right. I want to stop these back and forth arguments. Sometimes both sides have real issues, sometimes one side has only fiction. But it must end so people can just plain live. A freed mage has no more right to abuse a Templar than the latter had the right to abuse the mage.” Some things were getting clearer as time passed.

“You got a tough onethere, Hawke. And no, I don't want the gear. I'd worry some Warden might think I wanted to Join...”

Glad to see the smirk returning, I returned it. “It's so much fun, all the darkspawn you can kill.”

“I look terrible in blue and Bianca prefers fresh air.” 

Fenris stepped back down into the chamber. “Are you done yet?”

“We found some old coins, collectors might even pay more than face value, Broody.” Varric brought out a fistful of loose coins.

“Fine. You can study them later,” said the elf.

Bethany had been edgy about that big statue, so it was no surprise when she almost marched ahead toward the shrine. I was wary as soon as I got a really good look at it. Looking at it felt like a blade in your back or maybe acid in your spine. Offering plates were empty. With all the old and dusty makeshift altars we'd seen so far, seeing these gold plates both clean and bare was alarming. This was still actively used.

Bethany and Fenris had stayed at the top of the steps, and Varric was looking at one of six urns that circled the room. It just felt evil, even empty. The Dalish carvings and even Paragon worship never felt like this; they were just different.

Fenris demanded we destroy the shrine, and I agreed. Not that I wanted to touch it with my bare hands. But as soon as I approached the altar, a loud voice rang out with words like what were on those parchments and journals.

I sprang back onto the low stair-wall in surprise, expecting an attack.Everyone went tense, and ready for it.

Nothing happened.

I stepped carefully back on the floor. “Defile an altar, how's that done again? What would offend a dead god?”

“Decorating it with rotting or fermenting foods, and piling it with bodily wastes were usual when any shrine was taken.” Anders spoke without inflection, even his tiny, brown braids unmoving.

That I could approve, but I wasn't quite in the mood to ask for volunteers. “We'll have to settle with breaking this in many pieces...” I stopped and stepped forward to start breaking it.

As soon as I knocked stuff away, light and heat flared around me.

“Look out!” Fenris shouted, his lyrium already glowing as he moved.

I moved to where lava seemed to be flowing upward out of the stone floor, and I saw another rage demon was forming near Fenris. I moved to attack the demon's rear and rolled away before it could form new arms to attack me.

A quick scan of the battle showed Anders and Bethany casting ice and fire all around them. Paws was attacking a shade on his own that was behind Varric.

The demon I'd attacked was roaring up in front of the spilled salver. Why physical weapons worked on a demon of fire wasn't _my_ problem, but it was his. 

Soon I was the only one left and I looked again to see who needed help. Paws was still attacking one, so I helped him finish it. Moments later they were all defeated and dispersing.

“Good pup,” I said as I scratched Paws' ears.

“Hawke?” Anders' eyes were big and lips pouting. The humor was almost hidden completely.

I could feel the face I made, but I only rolled my eyes and said, “Fine.”

He stepped closer, and dropped to his knees beside Paws and leaned against me, rubbing his cheek against my armor as he held me close.

I scratched his head to the sound of snickers from around me. Mew was holding on to Anders' armor and looking annoyed, before dropping off to stalk away. Paws looked almost bemused, too.

Anders trembled, and I wasn't sure if it was from his fears of Corypheus or remembering happier play back in the mansion.

When a puff of his warm breath and a tiny spark made it inside my armor, I was sure. The sneak. My stomach was clenching and I almost wondered how far he would go. 

Remembering tales of Kinloch decided me, so I pinched his shoulder. “Bad puppy.”

Anders looked up, his eyes sparkling and _normal_. “That would desecrate the altar really well...”

We were in a bubble of silence. I wasn't sure if it was real or just me. “I...” 

Pitching his voice louder, he called over. “Bethany, how's the whispering right now?”

Sister answered, “Quiet... nothing. How can that be?”

“The dreamer is quiet, Dera. We're offending him.” Anders stood, keeping hold of both my hands. “What would offend a Magister more, one that believes non-mages are of no value, than my loving you as an equal? We become his nightmare.”

Fenris chuckled and I heard a scrape. When I turned, he was leaning Bethany against the wall next to the altar and kissing her.

After an instant she was kissing him back.

Varric whistled quietly. “I would have made book, that Blondie would have done that first but...”

Anders, challenged maybe, or free of that weight for a change, swept me over to the altar for a heated kiss.

I smacked him after a moment. “I do not want that thing looming over us while we do that.”

“Whatever, love.” Anders grinned.

Varric was grinning. “I can't take _any_ of you _anywhere._ ”

Calling over to Bethany and Fenris where they were just staring at each other, I said, “Time to break this statue apart.”

They weren't saying much, but they were quick to help.

I wasn't going to interfere, unless he treated her badly. I should tell him that soon.

We ended up burning some into slag and chucking the pieces out into the water as far as we could in different directions. Then we desecrated the shrine some more as Varric whistled on watch. We left it barren and empty, which made me feel better.

The only path that didn't lead into the unsettling water went vaguely toward the tower base now, through a building with a big gap in the wall. As soon as I got closer, I could see the far wall was broken by another entrance. Gatehouse or command post, it was only a shell.

“Something's moving!” Fenris said before Paws was done growling. “Spiders?”

“Deep Road's lousy with them.” Varric drew Bianca out and prepared.

“Darkspawn can't have all the fun.” I could see neither Anders nor Bethany were smiling now. I stepped forward and looked out into the next open area without stepping out. 

Varric had edged to the doorway too and whispered, “Lookie, lookie. Deep stalkers too.”

“And the spiders are attacking them.” Fenris sounded pleased.

“ _ **Let them.”**_ This comment from Justice was not a whisper.

I pulled the others back as a single deep stalker wandered without any urgency towards us. I killed it easily. “Let them come to us through the doorway.”

“You don't mind that we killed it, do you, Glowy?” Varric watched for more coming our way.

Justice just stared at Varric, for the nickname or the snark.

I stepped next to him, close enough to feel his body's warmth. His eyes glowed brighter as his arms went around me, almost reluctantly. 

Anders' brown eyes appeared again and he sounded disgusted. “Deep stalkers, too?”

He sounded surprised.

“I killed that one minutes ago.” He wasn't usually that out of it when they changed, and that made me afraid again. I didn't want to mention the gap.

Bethany peeked around the corner at where the creatures were still fighting. “This is almost boring. They just keep fighting each other... wait, another one's coming this way.”

“Sunshine, I can wait. It'll sound better when I revise it.” Varric nudged her out of the way so he could shoot before the stalker got near.

“Back! The largest spider has died. The surviving pack will come this way.” Fenris' blade nearly barred the opening.

Anders' cage-spell appeared around the nearest along with a bright ball of fire, and the already wounded creatures died.

My sister grinned at the frowning Fenris. “We had plenty of time to recover energy.”

I took Anders' hand in both mine for a moment, and his face softened, if only a little. I was alarmed that his body didn't relax this time.

We left the building and the open area had a shallow hill in the middle. When I looked over one deep stalker was eating spider and noticed us. 

Anders finished it, with one hand still gripping mine like iron.

I could see from the top of the hill that here was a smaller bridge and causeway than the wider and finished one that had been destroyed. “Let's check these ruins for any remaining stalkers and then go in.”

“No darkspawn, though. I almost wish we could get some kind of warning for the spiders.” Bethany shuddered.

Poking inside one ruin we found another crude carving. I looked carefully at it for any resemblance to the temple statue and tossed it into the greenish lake. “Coins would be more useful.”

The other building shell had another Legion on the Dead set of armor tucked into a corner. Limbs were gone, but the heavy armor and rotten bow told the story of his last stand.

That was too easy to empathize with, and I met Anders' worried eyes.

Varric seemed almost reluctant when he pulled another journal from the remains. “I hadn't known the Legion were such writers. I need to meet more of them.”

“We can introduce you, Varric.” I wondered if he really wanted to go to Orzammar, but he only laughed.

Flipping through the pages, Varric went back one before he began to read. _“_ _This place is cursed. For ten years, Paragon Garen has been sending Legionnaires to search out our lost heir. Now I know what's become of them._ _There's no way out. This is no normal part of the Deep Roads. There's lyrium worked into the walls, into the Stone itself, some kind of human magic. From the outside, it looks like just another tunnel, but walk in and it's a prison. There is no way past the barriers, no way forward, no way back. But the trap remains open to every beast, darkspawn, and dwarf that wanders in._

“ _My brothers in the Legion have died, and I have done my best to lay their spirits to rest in the Stone. I am the last. There will be no one to do the same for me, or for Tethras, if he too was snared by this noose. For you, my prince, I wish you the Stone's blessing. May someone recite the ritual words over your bones and return your spirit to the Stone.”_

Varric coughed and his voice was rough. “Those were the last words of Bashath Garen, Legion of the Dead. He must have been another member of the Paragon's clan, guilty or foolish...”

“Those poor dwarves. They were just trying to help someone, and they've been trapped here for centuries.” Bethany frowned. “I don't think that Tethras would want Bashath or others to die like this for him.”

“Don't underestimate guilt and wanting to talk to Tethras just _one more_ time...” I understood that all too well. I never expected that chance to talk to Carver last autumn. Hearing Papa here was so very painful.

“We will, at the Maker's side,” Bethany declared.

I wasn't sure if she was convinced or trying to convince herself. I didn't think I would get there. “Varric, are you going to do the speech for this guy?”

“I don't believe in that back to the Stone stuff.” Varric wasn't his usual confident self.

I waited a long moment before saying anything else. “This is what they believed and it's not evil.” I hoped he would and was glad Bethany stayed quiet aside from an intake of air. I'd give it a try if he wouldn't.

Finally Varric spoke and I couldn't make the words sound like words I knew, aside from maybe the Aeducan clan name.

We were silent as we approached the new causeway. Paws stayed close to me and seemed to be watching Anders more than anyone else. 

Bethany wasn't as stoic about the growing odor. “What is that smell? I think I'm going to pass out!”

The near side of the bridge washed away at some point and drier dirt was piled and pressed high enough that we wouldn't step in the water. I wasn't sure what the smell could be coming from. The dirt path looked bone dry and split with one narrow part going to a building surrounded by water.

“This was underwater, once.” Fenris stepped carefully to avoid touching the glowing puddle.

Varric sniffed as he crossed to the peninsula. “A warehouse, housing? I don't know what it could be without an entrance.”

The smell wasn't as strong, and tucked up on high ground was the remains of another old and dried corpse. Maybe the water kept the scavengers away. “Another body's over here.”

Varric took a look. “This isn't Legion armor, no clan symbols either... Wait, looks like something was pried off. It could have been Garen, I'm just not sure.”

“Could it hurt, even if it isn't him?” I wasn't sure what his expression meant, just that it wasn't a happy one.

Varric stood upright. “Atrast tunsha. Totarnia amgetol tavash aeduc. The Stone's blessings on you, so far from the thaig of Garen. Return to the Stone.”

His voice choked again, Varric said, “Now let's get out of here, Hawke, before you see me cry.”

When I looked ahead, the rest of the causeway was narrow, with maybe a wagon turnaround halfway across. I was _sure_ there would be darkspawn before we crossed. “Break-time, move back.”

Once inside that last ruin, I whispered into Anders' ear. “Mind if I talk to Varric for a moment?”

Turning, his lips grazed mine and he pulled me close. “No... I mean yes, I do mind, love. _I need you close to me..._ ”

I knew this, but he'd used that line many times in a different situation. I may have snorted, trying to stifle a laugh.

Anders drew back, but I interrupted that before he took it the wrong way. “Anders, I'm sorry. But usually when you _need_ me close it means something else.” Then I couldn't hold in a few more laughs.

That made him smile. “That too, but not with the darkspawn up there. You talk to Varric, I'll be quiet.” 

I asked a quiet Varric if we could talk away from my sister and Fenris. The dwarf rolled his eyes; I would have preferred talking to him over some good alcohol. I didn't feel guilty about nearly twisting his arm to make him say the ceremonial words. Well, not much.

When I looked out over the lake that glowed in the darkness, Anders was a warmth up and down my back as I spoke. “Are you going to tell his story? I think he deserves it. So do the many sent down here to try to give him a kind of comfort.” 

“Doesn't matter,” Varric said gruffly. “He was another clan, in an Orzammar caste. We have nothing in common but the name.”

“Varric! What are you saying? You don't believe that,” I was past worried, Varric was always about the story. I didn't want to sound naive. “His story isn't bullshit because some bored idiots aren't as interested in the past. Aren't your _Stone Heartbreaker_ books popular?”

“How many have you read, Hawke?” Varric asked sadly.

I could feel myself flush. “Well, I never read stories like that. Usually I fall asleep from exhaustion, or Anders interrupts. I look for books somewhere between dry histories and bawdy stuff.”

Flatly, he summarized, “So you _didn't_ read them.”

Frustrated because this wasn't what I was trying to say. “Okay, I'm an idiot. I admit it, I avoided every bookseller that were selling Tales of the Champion...”

Anders coughed. “I've read two now, Varric. They're _good_ , as long as I can manage to ignore the names you used. Though the harem story was a little intimida...”

“Anders!” I twisted so I could look him in the eye.

His expression was like I'd caught him with his hands in a cookie jar. “Love? I... ah, bought one in Orzammar. The other appeared in my pack and I think it was Sigrun's little joke. A few books like that were smuggled into Kinloch and we tried to recreate them...”

My face was so warm, I wondered if I was going to catch fire.

Varric was quietly laughing, and at least it cheered him.

I sighed. “Regardless of my taste in reading, Varric. You tell stories, and the original Tethras' story was never told and it should. Who else could tell it right? Is this reluctance about his story or yours?”

“Dunno, Hawke. Storytelling isn't as much fun when you've had to do it with a blade at your throat,” Varric said while looking at me. “There's a Seeker who wanted to know everything about you when I got back to Kirkwall after a quick tour of the Waking Sea. She searched your estate and wasn't satisfied with what was left there. She called me on some details when I was getting creative. Not all, though.”

Sighing, I asked, “Who is she and how much do I need to watch for her?”

More comfortable in telling this story, Varric said, “I don't know for sure, she wasn't that friendly. I think she was out of Nevarre, possibly Cumberland. She might not be a threat, I wasn't quite sure. I think she might have been developing a little crush on you, Hawke.”

“Hah, as if I wasn't happy with Anders,” I said.

“Well, Hawke, that Seeker was a looker and rich. That's never a bad thing,” Varric grinned.

Anders stayed quiet this time, though he clutched me closer.

I said, “She's lacking something I'm very fond of. And I'm not all that fond of the Chantry either.”

My mage sighed and bent over enough to rest his chin on my shoulder.

“Maybe,” Varric said doubtfully. “You believe.”

“That won't buy much mercy from the Chantry.”

Varric rubbed his chin. “You're both survivors and I'm not betting against you two. Malcolm Hawke must have been a bit of a rogue to get away as clean as he did. I'd love to know about Anders' kin too.”

Anders kept his voice only slightly bitter. “They farmed in the Anderfels and were _good_ Chantry folk. There isn't much else to say.”

“That can't be all. How saturated are your family trees with Wardens? With mages? With noble lines? These puzzles are missing pieces.” Varric wasn't pleading, not quite.

I shrugged. “That hasn't been a priority. A powerful, noble grandfather I never met didn't help me all that much. Now, Kirkwall isn't anyplace I can safely visit very long.”

“That did not stop, you, Hawke.” Fenris came closer with Bethany. “Not when The Carta rose up.”

Anders pulled me down to the ground, but sat in front of me. I was feeling a little drowsy. I leaned a little against him as they talked and began to undo the little braids in his brown hair. It was starting to look a little lighter at the roots, but I tied it back the way it belonged.

Anders seemed very relaxed and leaned back against me before I drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	26. The Bends From Deep Pressures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waves of madness and visions begin to separate Anders from true events. Justice is not used to losing all control...

**Grey Warden Prison** **,** **Tower Base**

**Anders** **:**

The whispering had gotten clear enough that _h_ _is_ voice was a mix of a doddering Enchanter's lecture on defensive wards and the repetitive experimentation of a new fire spell effect. Those were almost tempting, until a vision of a work lamp shade and delicate traceries visible in the... hide made me sick. 

Worse was his satisfaction in the power he wielded from the blood and life stolen from others. I saw flashes of those piles of bones in the cells above us, as fresh corpses being hauled out of the way for more. Imagination or his memory, the palpable pride and lust for power made me try to throw myself away from those visions.

_**He must die. Whatever the Chantry has said about him and those Magisters is shown by the injustices of his memories and desires.** _

Justice's words were outraged but the energy of them was subdued. Still we agreed.

Then visions were of pleasurable things, food and dancers, until even that became a horror with frightened or staring eyes of every color, like gems.

_**Make the words stop. This is like the cursed Vengeance's thoughts that twisted me. Twisted us away from ourselves. His victims deserve a too long delayed justice, like that creature in Blackmarsh.** _

I didn't know how, beyond resistance. Holding on was getting harder; my growing fear was that we would be smothered by the sleeping Corypheus.

Varric was brooding after he said those ceremonial words over his ancestor when we paused before crossing the causeway. I met the eyes of both Hawkes, and we knew there were darkspawn across the low bridge. 

They weren't moving and Hawke wanted to speak to Varric.

I wasn't sure if the alarm was more my own or Justice's. Hawke and I were touching almost constantly, because she was part of the binding magics that held Corypheus. 

Giving them privacy was beyond me right then; I just couldn't face it. I didn't want to sound like a frightened child at the idea of being separated from Dera. Old pain from losing my mother and home changed into something darker than angry Templars and their chains. I was slipping away from the light into the deep, and I clutched at Hawke, trying to keep her close.

Not that I minded her talking to Varric, but I _needed_ her close.

Dera shook, and I got alarmed. That wasn't lessened when I realized that she was hiding her laughter _**at our fear.**_

“Shh, Anders.” Dera caressed my cheek. “I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at your worry. I just thought it was funny that when you usually say you _need me_ it's more sweaty and a lot more fun.”

The acid in my middle spread out and dissolved, because she still saw me as that, not a crazy ghoul like Larius. “I want that too. You talk to Varric. I'll try to be quiet.”

Varric didn't seem to want to talk for once, but Hawke persisted about the earlier Tethras' memory as being as important as his bodice ripping Heartbreaker books.

Hawke finally admitted she didn't read the books and she was trying to apologize while still making her point. I had been reading a couple of the books. I hadn't read anything for fun in years and the look on his face said he got my point.

But Hawke wasn't quite as pleased as she flushed. The Hawkes in those books weren't like her in some ways... but sometimes Varric got her so right I had to stifle a laugh as I read. I didn't mind the strange playacting in Varric's stories, I had the real woman. 

When Bethany and Fenris came over to talk about lost relatives, I was quiet and Hawke dozed a little. Corypheus' whispering was quiet with both Hawkes so close to me. Even Paws' furry warmth helped.

Ser Mew seemed to have decided Varric's pack was acceptable, and I felt a little betrayed.

As well as a little glad.

Hawke stirred after only a cat nap.

The narrow causeway was only the width of a single wagon, with walls to prevent heavy loads from falling off. The tower would have required so much stone extracted from the crevice walls around it. When we were a third of the way across, the darkspawn waiting for us was clearer. A big one was out of sight in a gatehouse or turnaround, with more waiting at range.

For creatures that didn't speak or understand cause and effect, darkspawn still had a grasp of tactics.

When Hawke and Fenris moved ahead, the alpha brought out his shield to plow through them. But they split apart to prevent his focusing on either. Fenris took a glancing blow but the 'spawn ignored the continuing damage that Bianca and we mages delivered. 

Even as the alpha stumbled I realized that Varric was already shooting the mostly ineffective archers. They died more quickly.

It was clear, we were a grimmer group this time. Hawke and Varric only compared noises over a ruby and then changed corpses.

Hawke started and looked back at us. “Did you say something?”

No. _No._ _ **No!**_ If Hawke, already part of the bindings was losing it, what hope did we have? How long did we have before we would be mad and only tainted tools? “No, Hawke.”

Dera looked up at me, her eyes wide and scared.

'It's been quiet' I left unsaid as I moved closer to lean against her. I felt better, even if I was certain that Justice and I could not protect her from this.

The causeway ended in a branching of a path going around the tower. A rough rock wall went around the tower base, enough that we couldn't see the open area where the seal should be.

Hawke tested the hill of rocks to see if she could climb up and take a look, but a boulder half my size rolled out of the pile and nearly squashed me. We turned to the right path, which curved away. 

Maybe a quarter of the way around, the path opened into a wider area. It was too bad that there wasn't passage into the base. All I saw was remains of an old campfire and some discarded possessions.

I picked up the tattered journal with a proud griffin in faded colors on the cover. How it resembled me was a topic to avoid. 

Hawke put her arm around my waist and I wanted to smile at her, but my face was stiff from the screams that were echoing from different levels of the tower. I thought I was the only one hearing them as no one else was looking at the upper reaches of the tower.

I opened the journal, faded but still legible. The contents were similar to what we found before, and I read one later bit aloud. _“The records say_ _Corypheus has been trapped below the Vimmarks since the days of the Tevinter Imperium. Can it be a coincidence that the darkspawn besiege this are_ _a_ _more fiercely than anywhere else on the surface of Thedas? Or that Kirkwall, the closest city, suffers from endless plagues of violence, lunacy, human sacrifice, and blood magic?_

“ _If one studies Kirkwall's public records, it becomes hard to deny that some malevolent force has long shaped its history. Could a darkspawn, even a powerful mage, have such influence even as it slumbers?”_

“Looks like we aren't the ones suspicious, even with little evidence.” Hawke moved back against me, but I only slid my hand down her arm before stepping back.

Bethany looked up toward the top of the crevice. “I wish we knew who realized this.”

“You missed the notes we kept finding in more remote corners of Kirkwall, Sunshine. A group of scholars like that Brother Genetivi were collecting what they could discover about Kirkwall when it was Emerius in the Imperium.” Varric polished Bianca longer than was necessary and slipped Mew a scratch. “Many must have realized something was wrong, but how many knew about this prison?”

“ _ **And the Templars blame all mages.**_ _ **Does anyone doubt how unsound this**_ _ **prison**_ _ **plan was?”**_ No one answered Justice and he settled.

After a long moment, Hawke peered upward. “There can't be too many more levels. I think there's only... five? This is the third we've been on and we know there's a top floor that had something.”

She tickled my side and I frowned at her. _**I needed to keep my concentration**_ against the flood.

Then we felt darkspawn back the way we came and _**I welcomed the chance to strike.**_ When we fought, Corypheus' whispering was easier to ignore.

This was the first emissary we'd seen for a while and this darkspawn group was made of a larger number of hurlocks and another alpha. We finished the battle, unwisely strung out and apart as Hawke and the elf were drawn further ahead.

Hawke came almost sauntering back and I managed a smile. Once I'd healed injuries, we moved back and went the other direction around the base. 

A few steps beyond the end of the causeway, and the whispering from Corypheus washed over me like a storm tide. His demands and orders of what he expected done to slaves and ungifted... I bent over, trying to hide from his attention. “Stop! Just make him stop talking! Make him stop!”

Hawke bent over and supported me, biting her lip while I could only breath shallowly.

“The abomination's hearing voices. How unexpected.” Fenris' sarcasm wasn't important.

Bethany's voice had bite again, compelling attention. “Corypheus is calling to him, to all of us. He knows _we're_ tainted.”

“I hear something at times too, and I never drank blood like those Carta fools. I almost wish we brought Daisy to compare an untainted mage.” Varric's easy rationality was calming.

Fenris gripped Bethany's hand where she held her staff. “Mages are in danger and more susceptible...”

“ _Shut it!_ For me, it's not much worse than the usual darkspawn nightmares _all_ Grey Wardens have. But _my blood_ is part of the binding, and I can almost feel the binding and the cracks that existed before our arrival.” Bethany's hand twisted and she gripped Fenris' hand, letting her staff fall as she looked into the warrior's eyes. “I am probably safer than you.”

He looked away, but didn't argue that. 

I found it in myself to be amused, despite the topic or my situation. I remembered some epic attempts at Kinloch to seduce Templars, and those had cheered me when I was held there. I met Dera's eyes, and took a moment to brush her cheek.

The dried and querulous voice was still speaking, so speech was getting harder. Justice was objecting to just about everything right now, so I tried to tell Hawke... something important without words, but the thought washed away.

Hawke pulled me upright and pulled me along the path.

I lagged behind, afraid to let go and afraid of being too close. 

Paws ruffed as he nosed by some rubble and we let her walk ahead. I admired her rear as she crouched to pull out a leather pouch.

Another wave swept through my mind like a tempest, and I was drowning far from the clean air, the light far overhead and my soul burning for relief. I heard myself scream as I dropped into a crouch to protect myself. My vision faded in the storm wracked water.

I felt Hawke's arms around me, smelled her close, heard her voice... 

“What's wrong, Anders?” Hawke's voice came from far away, though her arms held me.

“I can't... the voices...” Storm surge and rip tide, I was being torn apart by two immortals within my mind. I almost wanted to reach in through my skull to rip out the disease, the voices, whatever might make them stop.

I had to... try to explain. “I have too much taint in my blood. I can't shut him out. _D_ ** _omna miri solia,_** help me, love...”

 _Air!_ Sinking further down under the waves of the Magister as Justice swelled.

 _ **Survive!**_ Warden fire and taint and purpose that drove us.

_Live! Freedom!_

_One more breath..._

“ _I will not...”_

“ _ **...Be controlled!” Everything here was a threat. The demon that lusted for power had its fingers in all of the**_ _ **ir minds and nothing could stop it. We must survive! There was no justice served by those who labored here, they sealed their own doom. We must survive.**_

Hawke smiled, showing teeth. “I can't take you anywhere, can I, Justice?”

 _ **Reaching back to ancient days in the Fade, I slammed our staff against the ground and summoned**_ _ **un**_ _ **differentiated**_ _ **spirits through the gossamer thin veil.**_

“You take the shades,” Hawke yelled. “Guard Bethany! I will deal with this. I promised him.”

_**Before they could move, I cast a compass ward against Hawke and I heard a the sound of a breaking jar as our body slowed as the field of existence here outside the Fade thickened.** _

Hawke's angry voice was close behind me. “Don't make me kill you, Justice.”

_**I started to turn, swinging the staff like a sword. “His corrupted fingers creep into...”** _

She stabbed at me, and my wards bounced her back twice. 

_**I laughed as I started to cast a firestorm, the others a cacophony of noise as the shadows weakened them.** _

Hawke appeared in front, her blades a blur as they sank into my flesh, leaving me with a bleeding heart full of steel.

_**I looked at her, dizzy as I collapsed to my knees.** _

She was weeping as she removed the blades.

 _ **I tried to reach out,**_ but I fell forward onto my face.

Hearing Hawke sob let me claw through the fear and I seized enough to heal myself. Justice was watchful but not as convinced they weren't in thrall to Corypheus.

Hawke's blade had gone through my ribs, so very deeply. I had trouble breathing as I sat up and tried to clear my left lung. 

_**She would have killed us, but she isn't in thrall?** _

_She said she would after we left Kirkwall. See, she's watching us, expecting you to turn me into an abomination like demons do._

_**I am not a demon!** _

_You didn't attack **Corypheus.** You attacked Hawke! If you had succeeded I would have done my **very** best to make sure I died in such a way so that you cannot possess my corpse. _

_Maybe the best justice for that is that you are trapped in a Tranquil body until the end of time. Tranquil can't go insane from their Calling, no magic, a mage's body that won't die until it falls apart. How old do you think Avernus is? I'm sure he'd love to experiment on a demon who used to be a just spirit **.**_

The silence from Justice almost echoed, though the susurration of Corypheus had resumed.

Sure that Justice would be quiet, I finally looked up at Hawke, who was watching me with hard eyes. “Thank you, love. He's never really felt fear before, never that he could not control himself. He's never been a chained prisoner with magic beaten out of him and waiting to die. I hope I can hold against him, against them both.”

Hawke stepped back, her face still wet as she watched me without expression. I couldn't meet her eyes.

I felt cold and alone, but I couldn't say anything against it. I was down long enough, she could have made sure.

This time, my... our betrayal was more direct. We attacked her. 

She let us live, but it was very cold in the Deep Roads.

Fenris finally spoke. “You had better hold.”

Varric chucked Mew behind the ears. “Let's not do that again. Bianca hates being turned on her friends.”

I could almost meet Varric's eyes. So I told him, “I fear what this emissary can push me to do.”

Hawke stepped closer. “He's _not_ an emissary. He was a stupid, stupid man, and now an insane and powerful tainted. Once he could create life or spells and he chose to harm others for his magic instead.”

Dropping to my knees, I put my forehead against the dirt. For the first time, I meant words the Chantry wanted us to say. “Lock me up, love. He would have...”

The silence seemed to last for hours, but all I could perceive was that my eyes were wet with sweat and tears.

A hand grabbed my blue and gray chest armor and yanked upward. I stumbled to my feet as she yanked me back not even a stone's throw.

We were alone, aside from Paws pacing watchfully with us.

Hawke shook me hard enough to make my teeth rattle before letting me go. “Fine. Let Justice out. I need to talk to him directly.”

“He's not rational, lo...” I swallowed. I had no right to say that, after I'd broken those promises after Kirkwall. “...Hawke. He's afraid and that is new to him. Spirits don't know fear. He doesn't trust anyone and only mostly trusts me because he knows what I think.”

“Let me talk to him directly. We can handle him.”

The others seemed too far away. “Bind me. He never summoned before.”

Drifting a little closer, Hawke put a finger on my lips. “Shh, you don't really want that.” Pulling me next to her, her arms pulled me even closer. The binding magic, Hawke's blood, was so close and around me when she murmured, “Better?”

Now I could take deeper breaths that filled my lungs properly. “I wish we could enjoy this. I'll try to relax...”

“ _ **You are tainted, too, and are being corrupted as well. You reminded me of mercy's importance.”**_

Hawke flicked a finger at me. “Mercy, we'll talk about mercy later. I'm not a mage, and Bethany is having far less of a problem. We'll both hold your hand if you think that will help. Are you better now?”

“ _ **We cannot fight with you wrapped around the mage like this.”**_

She laughed.

“ _ **This creature's thoughts slide into us like Vengeance's did. I will not be controlled ever again!” I started to push her off, but she wouldn't let go.**_

“I promised that I would never allow you to become a threat like that. That promise is for both of you, always. I have the least taint, and we Hawkes don't hear as much as you do. You must work with us if you want to stop him. Or else you will be trapped in here, alone without any allies or rest.”

“ _ **I understand.” That seemed reasonable and valid, so I let the mage emerge in a flash of blue-white light.**_

Glad Hawke and I hadn't changed position while they talked, I kissed her forehead. “He feels a little calmer, Dera. At least for now.”

She sighed, accepting the non-physical distance between us. I needed my concentration and attention for Justice and resisting the ancient Magister. This was too like our more chaste interactions after the Deep Roads.

Bending over a little, I slid one hand up to lace my fingers through her loose and longer hair and gave her a long and lingering kiss. “A promise, that it won't be long this time, Dera, One way or the other.”

Her smile was lopsided, but she was smiling. That was enough for now.

We returned to Bethany, Fenris, and Varric, and we were hand in hand as a dry voice spoke nonsense inside my head again. The silence was a little brittle for a few minutes, but no one said anything.

The wide path, once used by an unknown number of dwarves to build or rebuild this complex, curved and finally climbed a smoothed hill to the tower's base chamber. This chamber was larger than the ones above, but this third seal was the same size once I paced its length. Like the other seal chambers, no opponents were present.

The pride demon was more transparent than fog, as unmoving as a painting or idea. They scattered to examine the chamber for traps or other threats. Paws almost grinned as he brought Hawke yet another pair of torn trousers from some dusty debris. His stump of a tail was wagging and Hawke chuckled before scratching his head. The others went through the motions of checking for traps or forgotten journals, but the true threat was out in the open. The magic echoed of Hawke and green energy from the Fade.

We knew what would happen, at least for the seal, and Hawke's very blood would return the demon to reality.

I hated that.

The choice of which school to use to reclaim the binding's energy didn't matter to me much. The choice made quickly for enhancing the power of her attacks, but the alternatives were lesser as well. 

I just wanted it over with, I wanted _freedom_ from the tainted's words.

Watching Hawke grow pale was too like all the times I was helpless, starting against the Templars who hauled me away from my family. It was clear that the bindings expected blood mages to reinforce them, that a mage could use the blood and power, but Hawke was only breaking the lock with a sledge hammer of blood volume. I watched as she grew paler and paler. 

_Was it more blood this time?_

_Was Hawke growing weaker than the last time?_

_Was I going to heal her too soon and we had to start all over again?_

_And worse, did Corypheus approve of our plans for his death? Was he that insane?_

I looked around the room to resist calling healing immediately, and noticed some piles of bones, old and desiccated like the higher floor.

“Hey.” Hawke trembled a little, where she refused to watch her blood drain. “Did anyone else notice that these basins are on urns like the ones spitting out Fade mist above?”

Before I could answer some rocks fell and the demon cracked like a broken mirror; he swept the spike of his arm through the space where we were standing. 

Hawke pulled me away just in time, her blood still spraying over us, even as I tried to heal her. She sprang to attack the demon.

When it disappeared and reappeared, and there were now eight of them encircling the chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	27. Dissention in Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last Hawke and Anders meet other Wardens who are not on their Calling...

**Grey Warden Prison, Seal Chamber in the Tower Base**

**Hawke:**

I felt numb after fighting... them.

It was almost nine months since the Chantry, and I still had found no new life, only pervasive death. Anders' nearly dying seemed to break Justice's rampage. 

Anders was so upset, he was groveling and pathetic. And that was a poison that was hard to throw off.

Justice settled, at least for now.

I was just going through the motions right now: a smile after a desperate kiss, and hauling him aside when the guardian attacked us. 

Attacking the demon was straightforward life and death.

When it felt threatened, it created alternates, more pride demons than I wanted to stop and count. This time Paws wasn't as sure which was the true one, either, as finishing his target wasn't the real one.

Getting more and more lightheaded as the fight went on, blood lost to the basin was a problem. Anders was defending himself from another of the six remaining demons. He just didn't have the attention to spare to heal me.

Finally, when we finished off the one demon, the others disappeared too. I could see a trail moving back and forth, matching the individual battles.

That was a lot of blood.

I couldn't breathe and dropped to the floor.

Anders ran over and dropped to his knees next to me. He was panting like I couldn't and started wrapping my arm right away. “Love, look at me.”

That made me smile. “Anytime, but your face is a little too bruised and bleeding for my taste.”

He sparked a bright light and looked at my eyes with worry. “You have a concussion, love. I will need to rest before I can heal you or we move on.”

“We are exposed here on all sides, we should retreat.” Fenris insisted, looking over the bridges and glowing pools.

Bethany listened and said, “No darkspawn are close, but I think that Larius isn't far across that bridge.”

Varric looked out at the bridge ahead, Bianca still ready. “I heard something too, and I don't think it was rats looking for Gwaren cheeses.”

“Beth, can you fix my husband too?” I felt sure he would be slow to do that right now. The air was too still as they helped me up. “First I want to see what was bound in the seal, a poison that works on dragon worshipers would be nice.”

The magics linked to the seal were difficult to choose from, I had had weapons with each of them at one time or another. Any would help, but I decided the rune that increased the deadliness of my strikes was the most useful. The quicker they died, the less dangerous they were, and corpses were as slow-moving as they could get.

By the time I'd decided, Anders had sipped a lyrium potion and taken a deep breath, his face easing a little. Taking my hand, his other traced up along my arm, over injuries and where my blood had spattered after the demon attacked us.

Brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers reached the side of my head and the healing energies expanded into a very bright light. My eyes were shielded, but his pupils became very tiny before his eyes closed. When the light faded, the stuffed feeling faded away and it was easier to breathe again.

Another check and he seemed satisfied. “Anyone need to be healed?”

His face looked dirty with dried blood, but uninjured now.

I looked at Bethany and mouthed my thanks.

“Now we move back.” Fenris moved back the way we came and we followed. 

I decided the steps to the causeway were more defensible.

Sipping some water, I gave Paws water and some of the rations, before I signaled him to stay. Anders led Bethany a bit further, enough to pretend privacy. 

I slid a little closer, but I wasn't quite close enough to eavesdrop yet. Still I wanted to keep an eye on Anders, his losing control to Justice was too recent.

“Senior Warden Hawke...” he said to Bethany after looking out over the green and glowing lake.

“Oh, you giving me the respect of my rank?” Bethany's frown could be heard in her voice.

His snort said he was attempting to stay calm, something that happened usually with Fenris or Sebastian. “Do you want that show of rank, instead of truths? Often you're pushing your sister away for no reason I understand. She's family, she's a Warden, and we're living the same vagabond life as you. I'd give an arm to have family that cared, even a little.”

Her quiet laugh was bitter and hurtful. “No, she only cares bout winning. Winning a fortune, winning against the Qunari, and winning _your_ mage war. She's the Champion and she's going to change the world, no matter what it does to the people around her. The people who have to pay for her winning, for her power. How many have fallen by the wayside when they no longer serve? The farmer, the pirate, the prince, the guardswoman, none of them matter anymore on the way to victory, do they?”

I wanted to shout or cry. The Deep Roads was for her and almost pointless without. 

Anders glanced back and our eyes met. I saw a look of sympathy on his face for a second.

He turned back to her. “Bethany, there hasn't been much Dera hasn't done for need for someone else's need: yours, your mother's, even strangers' lives. Wanting to change Thedas fits me all too well. She was conscripted because of my actions. She started fighting because of you and your family. She could have lived in wealth like Hightown. I think the only thing she'd really done for herself was to let me live.”

The silence dragged out. As much as Bethany's see-saw behavior since her Joining hurt, Anders' trying to help made me feel better. This was the warm healer, not the rebel. The silence ran long enough that I wanted to shake her myself for pulling one of Carver's sour pouts. Now, I thought that Fenris might not ignore that.

“Fine,” Anders said, angerunder his voice. “Well, _**I am**_ a senior Warden to you, so I have a story that I doubt Stroud or your Commander in Ansburg will have told you. The story of two wardens: a blood mage and a noblewoman who still wanted to be queen. But it was Avernus the blood mage who used his own blood to hold an abomination sealed off for centuries and keep the rest of Ferelden safe. Necessity as he could not destroy the demon within the plate armor. And so they held each other at bay over the decades and ages. Wardens have _always_ watched over our own, not just mages.”

Bethany didn't say anything or move enough to tell me anything from this distance.

“Remember when you and your sister found me in Darktown? I was sure you were commissioned by the Wardens to either kill me or haul me back... for what happened.”

Bethany barked a laugh. “Yes, there were rumors about those you killed in Amaranthine. Commander Njáll refused to comment or confirm the number, but several Wardens served with those who died. Many refused to believe it could be you in Darktown for years.”

_Slapping Bethany was bad. Slapping Bethany was bad. Papa and Mother would be disappointed._

Slapping Bethany was bad, but I really wanted to do that right now. This was cruel. 

Anders stood straighter. “Stroud knew. Cousland knew what happened in Amaranthine. I was judged for Kirkwall, by a Warden-Commander and her Warden-Constable. How many generations in... Ansburg knew of and approved of _this_ prison? No one knew of the possessed Commander and bloodmage, but the mage remained vigilant. We may not approve of Avernus, but he has served well and still studies the taint's effects.”

He paused. “But why aren't the mistakes of Warden-Commanders not part of your training? The Commanders fuck up too. Their orders, their uniforms are not guarantees that they do the right thing. That image is fiction, like Varric's stories. That image doesn't make fighting darkspawn any more successful. Wardens like Avernus do. We don't have to like necessity, but we cannot deny that we make the hard choices both during and between Blights to protect everyone, no matter what it costs us. It might cost your life, but it shouldn't cost you yourself.”

Anders looked back towards me and I wanted to wave.

Tapping his staff against the stone of the causeway, Anders voice dropped. “I didn't... no, Justice and I didn't understand that for too long. Don't make the same mistake and live only for duty. The best reason anyone becomes a Warden is to help others. _We did it to save our own lives._ Few are willing to sacrifice for others. Would you have, if you already knew what it would cost you and you hadn't the Blight sickness? Dera _could_ have escaped conscription, she very nearly killed the Commander. Assassinating a Templar by himself would not take much longer, she has had a lot of practice.”

The growl from Anders. “What has she won, again? She's lost what she wanted to save the most. You should know better than believe rumors.”

Bethany hadn't argued out loud but I couldn't see if her face was closed or she was copying one of Carver's sullen moods. I hoped it was because she was listening.

Anders growled in frustration. “Bethany, as much as I hate to admit it, some things the Chantry says aren't all worthless, things like love and mercy. Don't forget them down in the Deep Roads. You should spend time with Wardens with a more balanced view. There is more to living as a Warden than just dying in the deep roads. When this is over, report to Commander Sigrun at Orzammar. You'll be able to get more lyrium there too. Being a warden will suit you better once you can remember the people you're fighting for and not resent them. Not just your sister, who knew _everything_ she was giving up.” 

He paused again, his voice rough and quiet.

Gruffly, Bethany asked, “What was it?”

Anders' voice lowered again and I caught only a few words, not from just the distance. I didn't know if it was deliberate secrecy, his tone was wretched. He didn't say much more but their talk soon ended with them both looking our over the glowing lake.

After a few minutes of silence I turned and moved out and over to stand next to Anders and look at him carefully. “Are you rested, honey?”

My Anders' smile was wistful and eyes still damp, but he smiled when he put his arm around me. “I think skipping rocks here might summon something from the Fade. Let's go, love.”

Fenris and Varric were playing cards with Paws, but it was just to pass time. They collected their cards quickly enough.

Anders checked on Mew's perch on his shoulders and an instant of worry flashed across his face. There was no safe place, and I needed to find a way to give Paws an honorable retirement, somehow.

Quietly I moved back to the seal chamber; there were tainted nearby. I squeezed Anders' hand and mouthed the question of, 'how many?'

He held up a count of five.

Weapons came down and we moved across a shorter causeway. On the other side was a set of wide stairs leading up and into the stone of the chasm wall. Short passages seemed to go around the stairs but it wasn't clear why. There seemed no rooms or caverns carved out of the rock.

Halfway across and the ground shook; dust and a few rocks fell around us.

Larius scuttled from around the right side of the stairs. He looked up at the tower. “He feels the seals weaken. He knows you are close. You must be ready... What's that? Who?”

The Warden ghoul got frantic, with his movement getting jerky and voice raising. “No... no. They're here.”

I could feel Anders getting tense, as he did meeting any new Wardens, and leaned against him. Getting useful information out of this addled Warden seemed impossible. “Who are'they?' The Carta? Puddles the Turtle? Seekers? The Holy Cheese-wheel of Andraste?”

He shook his head, matted hair unmoving. “No. Worse. More treacherous, more dangerous. The Wardens. They listen to Corypheus. They want to bring him the light.”

“Stop them. You must stop them.” Larius sidled off in a hurry.

From a rubble covered gap on the left side of the stairway, four Wardens came into view. They looked normal.

I wasn't sure he was coherent enough to be sure these were dangerous. Before they noticed us, I was almost surprised to see that they had no sign of the strains that were building in us.

That bothered me.

A woman in armor like Bethany's must be a mage, while the others had heavier armor. “Something's happening. The prison's breaking down. But it's stood up to tunneling before. What can – You! You have the key! And you've come through the seals. But how?”

I spread my arms, about to tell her that my mabari found a way in, when she stiffened.

“Champion? Are you the one? The same Hawke, child of Malcolm?” Her shock seemed too big to be real.

Bethany declared, “Hawkes, children of Malcolm.”

This reaction made me wonder if she realized we were three Wardens to her four, and with Fenris and Varric along she wouldn't frighten me like Larius.

Her surprise was fading. “The Carta said they were close. You must be her. I am Jeneka. I lead this unit of Grey Wardens.”

“Not too bright of you to enter if you knew about the seals.” Varric's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

This prison reminded me too much of when Bartrand locked us up in the Deep Roads.

Bethany took a half-step in front of Fenris. “Senior Warden, why are you interested in my father?”

“Then you don't know? Without Malcolm, this prison would have fallen thirty years ago.”

I _wanted_ her information. “Tell me what my father did.”

She relaxed with the chance to lecture. “The Grey Wardens built this prison to contain one of the most powerful darkspawn we've ever encountered. But even the best magic fades. The Wardens need to reinforce the seal. This requires the blood of a mage untainted by... Warden training. The last to perform the ritual was your father.”

Anders laughed. “She's so circumspect about the blood magic. Then again, it's not her blood.”

Bethany's smile was grim. “Sorry, no untainted mages here. You're years too late.”

I wasn't feeling the irony, I was feeling angry. “My father had to do _**blood magic**_ for you.”

“To avert the Blights, forbidden magics are sometimes necessary.” Jeneka's tone was superior, without any regret.

“Perhaps, but _my father_ would have done whatever it took to avoid blood magic.” Bethany glared at the Senior Warden.

Jeneka waved Bethany's declaration away. “He did not bind the demons, if that is your concern. That was created in another era, before the Chantry's laws.”

Fenris muttered, “There has been an abundance of years to destroy the demons.”

I still wanted to know more about how and why Papa was here. I asked Bethany, “Why do our family stories never involve embarrassing vacations in Antiva?”

My sister smiled a little. “That would be nice.”

“I know of a place or two,” said Fenris.

“When I get leave.” Bethany sighed

Jeneka stepped forward to demand attention. “We need your help, Hawke. I have done extensive research on this darkspawn and I believe the original Wardens were wrong.”

That clinched it, she was more barmy than Larius. A darkspawn was not a mentor. But keeping her talking may tell us more...

“He isn't a threat to humanity- he's our greatest opportunity. A darkspawn who can talk, feel, reason...”

Anders' tension became shaking, and he started to lunge forward, reaching for his staff as if it was a great sword, blue sparks growing.

I turned and threw my arms around his neck. “I want to learn more... for Ella.”

Anders stilled and the sparks faded.

While this happened Larius lurched back into view to glare at Jeneka. “Corypheus cares nothing for Blights. He uses you!”

The silver haired but young warrior cried out, “The Warden-Commander!”

Squinting, Larius said only, “Ser Ailon.”

I saw Anders' eyes looked no more surprised than I felt; I kept my expression neutral.

Jeneka sounded a little desperate. “Don't listen to this... creature. He's half darkspawn himself.”

Holding me, Anders spoke grimly with a bit of Justice's weight. “So will we all be one day. Don't fool yourself about the Calling.”

“Who are you? Who do you report to?” Jeneka's face creased from her anger when she looked at Anders and Bethany.

“Senior Warden Heysal. Senior Warden Bethany Hawke. Under Commander Cousland's orders right now.” Anders smiled, but it wasn't friendly.

“I'm the Champion of Kirkwall, and I _don't_ report to you.” I thought she was an idiot, but maybe killing the darkspawn would fix that. “Last one I reported to was Viscount Dumar.”

“Champion. I know how to harness Corypheus, and to use his magic to end the Blights.”

I saw Varric was interested, so I put all of the eager mark's breathless wonder in my questions. “Really? How could that work? We could save a lot of lives.”

The Commander lurched toward me with a pleading arm out. “No! The Wardens knew. Corypheus is too powerful.”

Anders turned me to face him. “Don't do it Hawke. Commander Cousland killed the last of the sort. We can't make deals with the darkspawn.”

I watched the other Wardens, wondering if they were all as insane.

Varric rubbed some of the brasswork on Bianca. “If the darkspawnhasn't helped, he's just one more big darkspawn to stick a bolt in. No big deal.”

Bethany gripped her staff. “My only purpose now is to end the Blight. But Father was no fool. This is wrong.”

Proud that my sister was taking a stand, I grinned at her.

Not hiding his contempt, Fenris nearly spat his comment. “A darkspawn and a mage. Just what the world needs.”

Larius said, “Corypheus calls her, and she listens. She brought him the Carta, sent them for you.”

“You must help us!” The Senior Warden demanded.

Fenris saw something and snorted in derision.

Now I smiled at her. “No, _**I don't**_ have to. I don't think you've any reason other than greed for his power. Why would darkspawn even want to end the Blights? They could just stop attacking the thaigs and surface.”

Jeneka looked confused by the question. “He is no mindless monster. The search for the Old Gods came at a terrible cost to his people.”

That was no answer.

Anders laughed his disbelief. “His people? Like nugs are part of the dwarven people. And how many broodmothers chose to be part of his people again? Why haven't you chosen that? His people ride on corruption and torture of those they capture. _We have a duty_ , even if you are too far gone to remember.”

Shaking his head, Larius said to Jeneka, “He is tricking you. These are not your thoughts, they are his Calling.”

“No, this is a better future. How many died in Ferelden alone? And that was the least of the Blights.” Jeneka was dismissive.

Few things could rile me as much. “How _nice_ of you to remember that. You and your fancy armor weren't there. _**I fought at Ostagar.**_ We fought while Wardens in the Marches to Orlais had their thumbs up their butts. You don't get to claim authority when you stayed away. It was a year and a half and how many even helped at Denerim and Amaranthine?”

“Slow down, Hawke, I want to record this.” Varric was amused again.

Jeneka had an eyebrow crease too. “Grey Wardens were there.”

“No, I was there at the Vigil,” Anders glared at her. “Don't you pretend you cared to fight where the real battles were, where towns and cities were destroyed. The Warden had only the recruits she found after experienced Wardens died before she arrived. The months before Amaranthine burned, held no reinforcements for us. If we had even a dozen more, we might have saved the city.”

At this late point, Jeneka noticed Fenris standing near Bethany, and Varric watching us argue. “This is Grey Warden business, not for...”

That made me laugh. “You _made_ it my business, their business, when you had your pet Carta drag Hawkes into your plotting. Your pet has dragged how many generations of Kirkwall into his madness for nothing. Why would you even think a darkspawn would honor any deal?”

“Do not think me foolish, Hawke. I am making no deal. I have a spell which can control Corypheus, and bind him to my will. He will be a new, important weapon in the war on the Blights. No more, no less.” She was certain.

Bethany looked horrified. “Bind him to your will? That never works, You must plan to use blood magic for this plan.

“Everything done to him was through the power of blood.” Jeneka might as well be possessed by a pride demon, the way she thought blood magic was powerful. “The Wardens imprisoned Corypheus before the Chantry banned such magic. It is the only way to hold him.”

“A convenient excuse,” Fenris said.

I nodded to him. “Corypheus may be as great a threat as the next Blight. He cannot go free. He gets the same fate as any darkspawn.”

“We'll find a way to do this with or without you, Hawke. This prison will be broken. The blight will end. Come. ” Jeneka spat her venom out and hurried away with her other Wardens.

I could not be sure that they agreed, or simply didn't trust strangers.

Varric called after them. “You be sure to ask the Qunari how that worked out for them. You just keep making friends, Hawke.”

I shook my head. “They have to meet me partway.”

Anders looked after them. “There's some kind of broken reason that setting him free and binding him at the same time will end the Blights. With the strength of even the fading binding, I don't think he could be bound more than at our arrival, without more mass deaths.”

The thought that someone would sacrifice many for an imprisoned and mad darkspawn made my stomach hurt. Then a tummy rumble reminded me of growing hunger. “What does she think she will do if we stayed away for a month or two? Starve? Killing darkspawn was pointless since they didn't get out either.”

“Perhaps she believes all mage children become mages, but that is not so, even in the Imperium.” Fenris was cross too.

Larius had been thinking, and he spoke before he set off up the stairs at a trot. “With me. We will beat them to the seal.”

I wanted to say was that I wasn't going to hold my breath with how capable he'd been so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog was taken from or adapted from Legacy. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	28. Perspective Shifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tainted Warden-Commander is pressuring Hawke to hurry, but they are finding too much bits and pieces left behind to believe Larius. The power left in the tower and its streams of magical energy is alarming.

_\--- x x ---_

**Grey Warden Prison, Riannon's Floor**

**Anders:**

Hawke made no move to rush after the ghoul and I noticed she wasn't the only one to delay.

Varric looked over the stairs that descended down towards the lake and whistled a tuneless sound. Bethany lagged behind Fenris' initial charge.

I pulled Dera closer for a quick hug. She looked tired, but I didn't detect any hidden injury behind her weary smile.

She took a single step in the direction Larius went and I asked, “Varric, Fenris, are you sure you haven't been injured? Tell me right away.”

“You don't have to tell me, Blondie. I like the surface and the way sunshine glints off my hair.” Varric rearranged the way his shirt lay on his chest.

“Darkspawn _never_ laugh at your stories, either.” Hawke was barely holding in a laugh.

Gesturing at the ruins around us, Varric pretended to be annoyed. “No respect for the story or the artistic temperament.”

Fenris was agitated. “No time to stop, we must get to the prison.”

“But we're inside the prison.” Bethany looked at the elf.

It seemed a little odd that I wasn't the only one confused by what I was hearing, but Fenris stiffened and cursed vehemently.

Hawke said, “They know this place better than we do and the darkspawn don't seem to bother them, any of them.”

“Now that is suspicious, isn't it?” Varric asked rhetorically.

Larius lurched into sight and beckoned again for us to follow. “Hurry! She cannot reach him first!” He climbed up again.

“So, we're taking the crazy ghoul at his word? Sounds like fun.” Varric shook his head.

“This Jeneka won't have any Hawke blood as long as we don't walk into a trap.” Hawke met Varric's eyes and drew her finger across her throat.

The dwarf nodded.

I didn't _really_ feel left out. Varric seemed the least affected aside from Hawke.

As we climbed, Bethany insisted, “Wardens or not, we have to stop them.”

At the top of the stairs we entered a chamber that had another of the urns. This one was not just leaking Fade energy, but part of a still active spell that lived within the walls around us. I could feel the tangible flow, but only the slightly glowing urn and barrier over the doorway were visible.

As we moved in, I saw remains of another small campsite in an unfinished cell, and a small pile of bones crossing where the wall was missing. The ashes of a fire had not completely blown away.

Larius began to speak as Hawke and Varric moved to look at the camp, pulling me with them. “This... this was part of the prison's defenses from centuries ago. Old wards... unstable, dangerous. The Wardens had them neutralized. Bringing them back to life will stall Jeneka.”

Bethany and Fenris watched the ghoul closely, and she seemed doubtful. “Then... they must have been part of what Corypheus built, not the Wardens.”

Fenris glared at the ghoul. “How does he know this?”

“Found something you might like, Sunshine.” Varric held a parchment that wasn't crumbling. His face held no humor.

Larius paced by the barrier as if he didn't recognize it.

Bethany read the parchment and then her lips compressed. Her free hand flashed with a bit of fire while Fenris read with his lips moving. The younger Hawke said only, “Confirmation, Sister.”

She handed it to me, and I read the neat script of a Circle-trained mage. The same lettering filled the one tome Hawke brought with us from Kirkwall.

_Warden-Commander Larius:_

_I have been considering your offer, and I accept your terms. In addition to what was discussed, I find a payment of twenty-five sovereigns per seal to be sufficient. All I require from you is your promise that my wife will be kept safe while I am gone, and that Lord Aristide Amell will be convinced to let Leandra leave Kirkwall with me when I return. I wish for my bride and I to be free, and I do not intend to have her father's men hunting us down._

_Before we depart I would also like to confirm your statement that the ritual does not require contact with demonic influences. I would also like to discuss this 'darkspawn of magical talents' in greater detail. It quite defies belief that the Grey Wardens have kept a secret of this magnitude buried so close to Kirkwall._

_I await your reply._

— _Malcolm Hawke_

My first wonder was at how old Larius' taint must be. Hawke was over thirty, and few Warden-Commanders became so in less then a decade. Trinna was an exception, for obvious reasons.

The second confirmed my respect again for the elder mage, that he recognized the insane risk of this place. Malcolm plainly did not approve of Corypheus, but he made a bargain for his wife and their freedom. I could very much understand that and might have done the same.

When I looked at Hawke, her eyes were dry and angry. She carefully folded up the letter and hid it away without mentioning it to the original recipient.

There seemed little point; he was pacing as if he didn't really understand any more about the defenses than he told us.

I moved over to the focal point of the magic. I touched the urn briefly, feeling for the energies as they shifted and the urn's light changed to a yellow. “I admit I don't see how removing this barrier could slow Jeneka at all.”

“The works of Magisters _only_ benefit themselves. Always remember that.” Fenris' rage wasn't directed at me this time.

We moved through the strangely empty halls. I had seen no darkspawn since the base and we approached the tower core again where the seals had been on other floors.

Even before we circled to an entrance not blocked by rubble, I could see the room was full of pillars.

I tickled Dera's palm and she smiled. Tired and battle worn, she was still so beautiful to me. I raised her hand up for a quick kiss, trying to ignore the voices chanting for streams of blood and magic.

When Hawke saw movement on the other side of the crevice gap, she stiffened and stepped forward. In a larger chamber, Jeneka broke a barrier with her magic, so the other Wardens and some Carta could charge through.

It didn't seem the barrier even slowed them.

Larius spoke clearly this time. “Such a fool, she hears his voice and thinks it her own.”

Varric filled the brief silence. “Looks like a few Carta are still alive, if you could call it that.”

The pressure from Corypheus on Justice and me seemed to grow. “I hate to ask it, love, but I don't want to delay either. We're going to have to hurry.”

When we entered the tower core, there was no seal. Instead, there was a visible flow of orange-yellow energy leaving the wall at two spots.

The room held a flood of Fade energy and I had to close my eyes to prevent dizziness for a long moment. Bethany looked shaken too, and Fenris a little ill. Hawke and Varric could see it and looked at the energy from different angles, almost like two excited children.

Sometimes I forgot she didn't feel it. Hawke should, mage blood from both parents and how she shone for me.

Justice felt almost as pleased to be in a place where it felt as if we were inside the Fade.

The rogues examined the small glowing urn on a circular metal railing around the pillar, although Varric couldn't see it as well. It was over my head and the urn extended low enough that Varric could reach it. The flow of energy ran from a wall urn to this pillar one and I was so very tempted to stretch up over my head and touch it...

_That's you, isn't it?_

Justice's almost embarrassed silence answered that.

Larius cried out. “Do not touch anything! The old defenses are active again. Very unpredictable, very dangerous.”

Coming into the room from the exit, Carta dwarves entered, their armor almost plain. “There! That's the one Jeneka wants dead!”

Varric spread his hands with an almost cordial smile. “You do a crazy Warden's bidding? Without any profit? That's worse than sucking up to the noble caste.”

The leader of the Carta had the gray haze in his eyes. I'd rarely seen that, aside from in Justice's eyes or ghouls.

_**This is a disturbing commonality. My eyes looked like that?** _

_Yes, you could ask the Commander or Nathaniel if you don't believe me._

_**I must believe.**_ He seemed disgruntled.

“... Jeneka shared knowledge of Corypheus with the Carta. When she releases the Master, we will be rewarded.” The dwarf seemed so very sure.

As sure as if he was speaking of the Paragons or Andraste, and that alarmed even me.

“Rewarded with a shiv in your back? Blood from dwarves works too, for that kind of magic. There's no profit margin in bargains with fanatics.” Varric seemed puzzled by their lack of pragmatism.

“Turn back, and you will be spared.” Hawke's voice had dropped to a growl and she sounded menacing to me.

The dwarf almost seemed regretful. “There is no turning back. We may die here, but we will take you with us.”

Hawke laughed.

But the Carta leader yanked the rail of the nearest pillar and it slid into a new position with a quick clanking.

“No, don't...!” shouted Larius.

The lost Warden was too late, as the exits from the chamber were blocked by a shimmering wall of energy, the same orange light as the stream between the pillars. The Carta drew their axes and swords, while Hawke drew her favorite blades. I spun up my energy trap and heard Bethany doing the same.

A light of fanaticism looked odd in the Carta's eyes when he shouted, “To arms, and pray that Corypheus honors our sacrifice.”

“Magisters know no gratitude.” Fenris charged forward as Bethany knocked most of the dwarves off their feet.

Hawke appeared behind the leader. He slid down off her heavy Qunari dagger and down to the floor, trying to move his now-useless legs. She turned and pushed both blades into another dwarf behind her.

I cast another spell to make the dying leader's death quicker, before sending some healing to the warrior and Bethany.

By then, the fight was over.

Varric pretended to brush dust before putting Bianca back. “This makes the Stone seem much more reasonable, doesn't it?”

Larius looked at the exits. “Trapped. Greedy Carta fools, always prying where they don't belong. This shouldn't have happened. This place isn't for them and they were told...”

I didn't need to hear anything from Justice to tell me he didn't like the way this ghoul spoke.

Hawke returned to my side and breathing got easier again for me, eerie music fading a little.

She spoke to Larius, though I could feel that she hadn't relaxed since the skirmish. “Why would they listen to you? 'Don't touch anything' is usually an invitation to touch everything. We'll find a way out; this isn't an ancient thaig because we can see daylight.”

“Always a punishment for playing with things you don't understand.” Larius seemed to be searching his memory.

“As if you have been sharing what you know, without stint, to other Wardens when you want our help?” Hawke was barely hiding her anger.

I chafed her wrist, and sent a bit of healing energy.

He didn't react. He didn't seem to even hear her threat. “There is a way out. Deep down, a small memory, a fading thought – I've been here before. Yes, yes. Think.”

Varric traded mocking expressions with the rest of us while the ghoul tried to think with a rotted out brain.

Finally Larius spoke more clearly again. “There must be a way. I was here once before, a long time ago. The magic... the magic flows in streams. They must be joined for the way to open. Yes, that's it.”

That sounded like a lock a mage with more energy than sense would make, one with nothing better to do.

Hawke gave me a hug and whispered. “Why would he know this? Have they often trapped non-Wardens in here?”

“I know, love. This reminds me of the Architect's games.” I realized Hawke wasn't the only one getting angry. I spoke louder so the others might be warned. “I'd thought Jean-Maurice at the Vigil was the exception, but Commander Cousland may be.”

I didn't know if Bethany caught it, but Varric agreed when he said, “The Hero of Ferelden is exceptional even for a Warden. I hope you'll introduce me, Blondie.”

The ghoul didn't help beyond those comments, but Hawke and Varric tested the way the energy streams flowed between the walls and the pillars, turning the rings and urns a quarter rotation at a time. The streams only flowed through the urns.

What interested me was that the pillars had four levels of circles, extending far above our reach. Those also rotated as much as the lowest was moved, to no visible effect.

Bethany spoke when a particular turning shortened the stream. “So much energy, harnessed for ages. How many died for these brooklets? I want to touch it, but...”

Fenris looked away from his watch over Larius. “It is corrupted and dark, Sunny. You don't need it.”

“You may not believe me, but I feel no taint in the magic. That doesn't mean we trust it.” I felt sure of this, despite Corypheus' whisperings.

Once they'd studied and rotated the tracks the orange streams met and lost all color to become a pure white, with a clang I almost heard. When I looked, both archways were clear again.

Larius finally paid attention to the rest of the chamber again. “That's it. It worked. Quickly now, we have a ways to go yet.”

“We? You weren't much help. Hawke, he's leading us, just like Seranni did back in the silver mines, right to where the Architect waited with his deal. I told the Warden-Commander at Amaranthine not to make deals with a darkspawn. These Free Marchers need the same advice.” They trade the future and freedom of ghouls and broodmothers for these hollow promises. If darkspawn bred like other creatures they might be a race, but they are parasites on other races.

I could feel Justice's eagerness to come out.

“He must be destroyed,” said Larius.

“You came here before your Calling. You came back how many years ago, but you tell us next to nothing, until it is too late. We are Wardens, too. This is not how you treat your fellow Wardens. We die fighting darkspawn, but _**it is not just that we be betrayed by other Wardens for power! Never again**_ **!"** _We could not trust the creature after how we were Called in only days._

 _Hawke put her arms_ around _us again and I pulled her closer without thought._

 _She brought clarity._ “Don't, honey. They listen.”

_I saw the reflected blue flames in her eyes, and her eyes were not apathetic. The creature was not the true opponent,_

I let the magic fade and pushed against her with a much needed kiss... or three, her body hot against mine.

Varric cleared his throat. “All right, Blondie, we know you're... happy to see Hawke but this isn't the time.”

“Since when have they been that much less annoying?” Fenris said with a smirk in his voice.

Stepping back a little, I had to grin. “It does help with that blue-eye problem I have.”

“And the whisperer,” Hawke added. “Maybe we should all hold hands.”

Larius wasn't listening and had moved a little ahead to the balcony outside the chamber. We followed him.

Across the chasm bridge, Hawke paused to look at the still gilded and carved archway that entered the wall again. It still looked amazingly fresh for something made so long ago.

Larius spoke quietly, but not to anyone directly. “The Hawke was fascinated by the old construction. Always stopping to examine the carvings. A learned man.”

Hawke colored and I had to admit that curiosity was something she shared with Malcolm.

“What did he say about them? What was he most interested in?” Bethany asked in a more polite tone.

Larius didn't respond.

Bethany shrugged. “I had to try.”

We found another intact crate with the Wardens' mark, but inside were only shattered swords.

“Does that have some special meaning for the Wardens?” Varric said.

I shook my head, and the Hawke sisters didn't say anything either. I really didn't have any spare attention for speculation right then.

The next chamber looked back into the chasm, with large windows, but there was another squad of Carta. Dera got a little careless and rushed forward too fast and was dueling with an assassin, but Fenris caught up.

This was a routine fight after this many years of fighting together, Bethany was the least known comrade, but not by much.

A closed door caught Varric's attention and once he'd opened it, this was surely a cache for the Wardens over the ages, due to the fading arms marked on the boxes.

On the one wall was another of the large urns, this one still glowing with magic and a light shining through the upper cap.

Hawke glared at Larius. “So this is another piece of these defenses, one that you failed to mention exist? Do they do _anything_ to hamper Jeneka?”

The ghoul shrank down a little at her demands. He had not done likewise for me. _Was it because her blood gave her more authority or I was less of a threat somehow?_

His head hanging low, Larius rocked from side to side. “I do not know how much Corypheus tells her in his dreams. Maybe not enough.”

Her dagger out, Hawke stepped in front of him, taller than the stooped warrior. She grabbed his tunic and shook it. “ _What does this thing do_? Does it help Corypheus? Or does it limit him? How do you know?”

Raising his hands defensively, Larius didn't meet her gaze. “I do not know. Maybe it is part of the defense, maybe other Commanders placed it. I saw the white stream like today long ago.”

“Sister, I am not sure. I can feel the flood of magical energy, but I don't think it's part of the seal because it doesn't feel of Father.” Bethany's fingers fiddled with her mage staff.

“Search first, then we will trigger it, and pray it helps.” Hawke looked at the crates with Varric.

But Varric made the most useful find, a small traveling desk. “The latch is intact, it might even be sellable to that collector.”

“You could write as you travel and save time.” Fenris had a slight smile.

He wasn't in as many of the stories Varric wrote.

Varric chuckled, “Never mind, I wouldn't want to claim one marked with the blue and gray.”

Bethany said, “Open it!”

“What's a little drama between friends?” Varric said with a flash of his usual grin. He opened the case, and flipped through the papers.

Hawke was tapping her feet before he was finished his survey.

“Only two seem related to anything we've seen. This one, now, is another that is on the same paper using the same lettering as the other two by a Warden Jeneka. This is some extreme sludginess in the ink.” Varric shook the tiny vial and frowned. “I can't believe there's that many Wardens named Jeneka. Are there, Sunshine?”

  


Bethany frowned. “No, this is the first I've heard of this Senior Warden.”

“Senior crazy,” Hawke said.

Varric made to hand the note to Hawke, but I grabbed it. It was jotted notes, made at different times from the writing.

* * *

 

_Warden trap for Corypheus – bound him inside prison under Warden control_

_Prison_ ~~_under Free Marches_ ~~ _, outside Emerius, now Kirkwall._

_Secrecy from Tevinter paramount – to prevent rescue by other Magisters._

_Inside series of caverns..._ _**Did they carve it?** _ _Maze enchanted. Wards within wards, locks within locks, secrets inside enigmas, spells woven with the help of a strange and powerful artifact called 'the key'_

_ Where did the key come from? _

_All_ _ this _ _to hold Corypheus. NOT enough._

_Warden-Commander Riannon's private journals: 'Corypheus is too powerful. Nothing will hold him forever. The seals are already weakening. We must find a way to fortify them, and soon.'_

* * *

 

When I finished Jeneka's note, I handed it to Hawke to say, “This doesn't sound like the senior crazy. ”

After a few minutes, Fenris said, “She is a mage. She is weaker.”

I started to get angry, but Hawke grabbed both of my hands before speaking. “It's too bad no Warden spent the twenty years before the Blight looking for a way to revive the wards without blood magic.”

Bethany looked a little haunted. “How long has she been here? How long has she been crazy? Can she be cured?”

Hawke put the notes away. “We're not stopping in hope she's cured. Our lives take priority. If she surrenders...”

I shook my head. “Compulsions end with the blood mage, but _some_ magic outlasts the creator. The Baroness' magic did, as did this prison.”

“ _You_ suggest killing her?” Fenris was both surprised and mocking me.

“Andraste's knickers, I'm not _**just**_ suggesting.” I had to frown at him and his surprise. “She sent Carta to kidnap Hawke and Bethany _for their blood_. Those instructions weren't heavy with goodwill. She would bleed the Hawkes and didn't care if they survived. What if Hawke and Bethany were just farmers? _I'm demanding it._ Helping darkspawn isn't part of the oath I took.”

“We can grieve the Warden who wrote these notes, later,” Bethany said, stomping the heel of her staff against the floor, “As soon as we have a later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	29. A Realization Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the evidence for what created this mess mounts, Hawke and Anders realize that the stationed Wardens have been here too long. That doesn't mean the ancient tainted mage can be released either, despite growing opposition. Hawke just wants to keep her own blood...

_\--- x x ---_

**Grey Warden Prison, Riannon's Floor**

**Hawke:**

I wondered how long Jeneka had been inside this prison. She wasn't as obviously tainted as Larius, but she wasn't far off in crazy.

ThenI wondered what they'd been eating. Deepstalkers were the only untainted creatures I'd seen. That made the big spiders I'd seen before in the Deep Roadssound tasty. The stale biscuits might have been sent in somehow, maybe those brontos carried in food before becoming dinner, but there still wasn't enough to feed everyone we'd fought in here.

I kept a closer eye on Anders than normal, and aside from holding me whenever we paused to study something, he seemed himself, even if he smiled less.

His demand that Jeneka should die was a little surprising, but he met my eyes and flicked his gaze at Larius for a second as he spoke. I nodded shallowly and he almost smiled. This was too like the Architect's offer in tales told in a smoky Orzammar drinking session with Sigrun.

Varric held up another paper for me to read. “This other one is interesting too, Hawke. Could be about that Warden armor we've been finding.”

I readthe very faded writing aloud, at least what there was, with Anders looking over my shoulder.

_...igh Constable Colthan, Weissh..._

_16 Nubulis,_

_The laby...as claimed Warden-Commander As... Ulrich tampered... of the magical se... in this place and unwittingly..._ _e_ _ased a demon on us. Commander Astor... us to run—he would hold the creature... activated the prison's defenses, trapping......both. The barriers came up, and they ..._ _l_ _l stay up. This was Co... Astor's last instruction and we wi... ...low it to the le..._ _r_

_We... unable to retrieve the Warden-Commander's prized hel... and the other trappings of his office. They will …t be returned to...upt and will remain with...er, wherever he may..._

This explained the extra bound demons, and maybe that abomination was Astor himself or Ulrich. “Do Warden Commanders have special armor, Bethany? Sigrun wears Legion armor.”

My sister shook her head. “Commander Njáll's armor is standard issue.”

Anders looked at his armor and snorted. Pulling bandages out, he tied them to his arm and legs like his own armor once had.

“I don't think anyone seeing your cat will mistake you for someone else, Blondie,” Varric chuckled.

Anders stiffened and looked at where Ser Mew lay on his shoulders. Raising his hand to pet the cat, Anders aborted the motion.

The cat's eyes showed he was skittish too, but I was much more worried about the lost look in Anders' eyes. He wasn't wearing that black death armor now he'd chosen for himself. My Champion armor was black, but the red parts were cheerier.

As long as they weren't soaked in my blood.

“That was written before the prison was cut off,” Fenris said with an angry tone. “If this urn is the prison defenses, what _was_ that barrier that trapped us inside?”

Bethany shrugged. “We don't know what magics are intact and what have been corrupted.”

I looked at Varric. “Anything else helpful?”

He waved at the travel desk that sat on the crate now. “Color for the story for me. The mage protecting his wife and child is the most gripping story so far. Escape, hiding, getting a stake for a refugee life, making illegal political deals for a wife and child makes for a much more popular story, makes survival sound more like a good drama instead of a conspiracy. That's the kind of plotting that readers will snap right up. Was he any good with a dagger, too?”

“Father taught me the basics at the start. I spotted the crowd for him later when I was older, in case it got too rough.” _I remembered getting sick in my stomach when a disagreement with_ _Ser Maron, when_ _t_ _h_ _at_ _Templar_ _was off duty, became a fight. But Papa took his lumps and the Templar_ _felt bad enough to do it in front of a child that he_ _helped me get Papa back to the farm._

“Blondie is as subtle as a bronto, and I haven't seen any better from mages aside from Orsino's secrets. Your father sounds alright.” Varric caressed the curve of Bianca's wood stock.

That meant he'd found everything he thought was useful, and I moved to the urn.

Anders stopped me. “Love, I don't trust it. Let me.” He closed his eyes as he touched the urn, and a blue light shone from the holes just below the rim. “A netting, sticky across the Veil but already long broken and reduced on this side and tattered...”

Justice opened his eyes. “ _ **Only a few**_ _ **things here still echo of the Fade here**_ _ **.**_ _ **The net will bring the creature across like the Baroness. His**_ _ **reign ends here**_ _ **.**_ ”

“Hurry! She will fight for him, make him stronger. We must get there first.” Larius insisted, but he didn't sound as urgent after so many times ignored.

“Commander!” I raised my voice at the ghoul. “Feel free to lead the way to Jeneka or straight to Corypheus if you could give us useful help. You want them stopped, and you could start by telling us about Alec and his combat abilities...”

As I expected, Larius said nothing.

We continued exploring, and while it wasn't what I'd consider a maze, it seemed like a lot of small rooms carved out of rock for no purpose. There wasn't the mix of room types I'd seen in Kirkwall, Lothering, or even Orzammar. We were still finding piles of bones and other rubble, even trinkets like an amulet, but I'd seen a lot of underground places from smuggling tunnels to warehouses, so why weren't there any living spaces, archives, or storage? Wardens had been in and out for ages, so why didn't it resemble Orzammar at least?

Crossing though yet another hallway with huge banners showing the Joining cup, Varric paused to look at one. “Why did these Wardens have a hundred or more of these banners made for a _secret_ prison? Were they trying to impress Corypheus?”

Anders managed a chuckle. “I saw some of that at the Vigil. When the Commander was called to Weisshaupt, we got a shipment of uniforms. Picture that, we'd been spending the last month wading through broodmothers and darkspawn and then trying to make repairs while fighting stragglers. Uniforms were the _last_ thing we needed, we had better armor already. We would have started cutting these down for bandages or clothing for refugees from Amaranthine.”

Fenris was looking at a skeleton and pulled up something that he threw against the wall, with a snarl of, “Venhedis! ”

“Anything we should know, Broody?”

“A... simple blessing, a plea for protection from the Masters, they called on the old gods' symbol. No pleas ever worked.” Tooth grinding could almost be heard a few steps away

Bethany barely touched his arm. “Andraste cared for them all, perhaps the Maker granted them mercy.”

Fenris laid his hand over hers with a smile.

The last room had turned back towards the crevice and open air again. Except for the different angle for viewing the tower, it was a case of déjà vu. On the far side was another glowing urn high on the wall.

“Weeks down here, working together. He never liked me. Too much bad blood...” Larius spoke, sounding more normal, though he still swayed on the balls of his feet like a skittish and wild animal.

I met Bethany's eyes for a moment. To Larius I said, “I can't imagine why.”

The irony sailed right over him.

A skeleton, still with shreds of armor, was under some debris, but I spotted an almost hidden courier pouch. Fenris and I managed to lever the rock off while Beth and Paws watched for interruptions or fresh odd things from Larius.

Courier pouches always held valuables.

A pouch of gem dust made that hope futile. Some papers were requests for supplies, Warden gossip, and reports of darkspawn incursions to a Warden-Commander. There was a heavily-sealed message, a report marked for the First Warden in Weisshaupt.

The name was not familiar.

_Weisshaupt_

_First Commander Deniel_

_7 Pluitanis 1014 TE_

_Ser, I regret to report that I was wrong. We cannot control the creature, Corypheus. Even our most powerful mages hold no influence with him, to the limits of lyrium and blood. In truth, it is they who have been most vulnerable to the creature's influence._

_A dozen times, those assigned to guard or study the creature have sought the key to free him. When they are removed to a safe distance, they remember little of what they did or why they acted. They speak of a voice in their minds, a calling like that of the Old Gods, but it wanes outside Corypheus's presence._

_Darkspawn have attacked as well, seeking him. I can only assume they are summoned the same way. Somehow, his magic lets him speak through the blight itself, affecting any who bear its taint._

_This same power stays the hand of any Warden who approaches to kill him. I must recommend that we seal this prison over and conceal its very existence. Corypheus must not be allowed to go free._

_Warden-Commander Daneken_

“That makes us feel better,” Anders said with a little hug. “We just have to hold on.”

Bethany was shaking her head. “Nothing is ever permanently sealed from darkspawn. They aren't that bright but they don't stop.”

“My line's namesake got in, and how many Legionnaires came looking for him? This sealing didn't work very well.” Varric brought Bianca out again and looked at both the ghoul and the tower grimly.

I didn't know what would happen with Anders, Bethany, and myself. But no one commented that we Wardens were a majority of the group now. That worried me deeply, even if I had no urge to help Corypheus with anything but dying in tiny little pieces. “This report never made it to Weisshaupt. Hope he's wrong about all Wardens being affected, or Varric and Fenris are in big trouble.”

Fenris gestured to see the letter. After a moment he said, “Fools, secrets so important they would not see the simple answer. Bring the best non-Wardens and end the Magister than way. Even bring Templars if they can.”

“We _are_ the best, though I wouldn't turn down the help of more people if we had them.” Varric said.

I said, “If Wardens lose control, smack us down. We may recover, but don't waste time taking us down, because Corypheus _must_ die.”

“Are you telling us something, Hawke? I thought you were protected a little, like Sunshine.” Varric's frown was unusual.

“No, I don't think it's a problem yet,” I shook my head hard enough I thought it might rattle. “I'd rather risk dying, being rescued by a potion, or recovering my senses like Anders than become part of this waste of lives and futures. _'In war, victory, In death, sacrifice...'_ isn't that big a jump for us, is it?”

Fenris placed his hand up, palm to palm, against Bethany's. “Let us hope it does not become necessary.”

“The Maker must surely bless the defeat of this madness,” Bethany said. “The Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens, so the Chantry says.”

I crouched over to count and rearrange the various potions and grenades. I only had a few left that Lady Elegant had made for me, but I gave some to Fenris and Varric. I would have to replenish after this was over, and corpses didn't need any. “Varric, I may want some contacts for these in other places after this. We made enough but finding a craftsman had been difficult for some.”

Anders brought out the glowing ring and brooch he'd gotten from the Ashes shrine, placing the brooch in his armor. _**“Bethany Hawke, take these potions. Victory, whether we see it or not.”**_

Okay, that was Justice's decision. Varric only asked for some of the protection and healing.

Anders sighed. “By the age of Jeneka's notes, she has been here much longer than a few days. The Carta close by and in the outer parts much longer, too. Serianni had been under the sway of the Architect for weeks or months and not much more in thrall than the Carta here. I believe I am the only one at risk.”

Larius had ignored us, gazing at the tower outside when Anders activated the urn. It glowed with a red light brighter than fresh blood, causing our faces to look bad.

Doubling back we checked a doorway we'd passed before and moved into a new area. This area was deep in the rock, without even looking out into the crevice. A couple of turns and we found another doorway blocked by some kind of field.

Larius was inattentive, so I demanded, “What is this?”

Simple questions seemed the best.

“So long since I've been this deep, but I remember. I remember every step taken with the other Hawke.” This was matter of fact, despite the decades since then.

Bethany spoke next, with more patience than he deserved. “The other Hawke? Do you mean Malcolm Hawke?”

“You were here with our father?” I wanted to question him more violently, but I doubted it would work.

“The seals are weakening, they said. Malcolm Hawke was chosen. A good man, but an apostate. Yes... I was here with him.”

I could hear the old contempt, though it was weak now.

Anders gripped his staff. “As if being an apostate means we can't be good, eh, Bethany? If the Wardens are this tolerant of blood magic, why the contempt for an apostate?”

His agitation made me rub Anders' back a little.

“Some of us are better than good. He's the ghoul.” Bethany glared at Larius. “You were lucky, Anders. Few apostates are offered the chance or given as much freedom. Most die and some don't have enough training to fight.”

Fenris attempted to pass through the field, to no effect.

Varric caught me trying to peek through the field. “Those streams turned white and this is like that other field...”

Curiosity or greed, he and I thought the same way sometimes, so we returned the way we came. Now in the room with the pile of Carta corpses, there were now two new streams of light, one in blue and the other red.

Anders' hand reached up toward the light with a bit of longing.

I squeezed his other hand. “Does it feel different now, like the seal bindings?”

“Not exactly,” my sister said. “There is _so_ much energy bound here. I wish I knew what this meant.”

Paws butted her so her gaze dropped, and she shook her head.

One set of pillar rings still had no colored light, but now we had white, red, and blue. I moved one, and again the whole column rotated. When we connected the blue one, it became white and the original orange one was incomplete again. Playing around for a while, we got all three streams to meet in white.

The fourth level had no light, so we missed an urn somewhere.

Larius just watched us.

I had to wonder what he would do if we could just leave the prison and the seal wasn't already failing. Wander in circles and argue with Jeneka, maybe. Meredith and Orsino, the second time around.

Too bad Corypheus was the real danger, or I'd be glad to let them fight.

We returned to the barrier, and Bethany and Anders said it was weaker. So we started down the last hallway into the mountain. At the end, were a couple of closed doors, one leading toward the sealed area.

Bypassing the barrier would be nice, too.

Inside we found the last urn, which produced an unexpectedly cheerful green light.

Returning to the white light tower room, the green light was where I expected it to be. The really pleasant part was that it was almost complete. Moving two pillars, they all shone a pure white light, and both Anders and my sister sighed in satisfaction.

Sister said quietly, “It feel cleaner, somehow. Thank the Maker.”

“Now let's just see what could possibly be worth this kind of puzzle,” Varric said with a clap of his hands.

Preparing a poison for my blades, I said, “Corypheus... but we will have to watch for Warden Daftney.”

Despite my words, there were enough times we found a chest with a difficult lock and only a pair of pants inside. Pants that well protected should have been made of gold.

The barrier was gone, but nothing came out to attack us. A turn through the passage and we found six cells. Two chests greeted us and not another seal.

“No stairs to the top.” Fenris sounded disgusted too.

It didn't take long to search; only one chest had a functioning mechanism. Gold was always welcome, even if I wasn't sure how old these coins were. Another crude carving almost looked like a mage in strange and bulky robes. The most interesting thing in the first chest was a pen with a reservoir, one that had not stained like ink, so I saved it for later study.

The other chest had another piece of Grey Warden armor.

“You'd look good in that hood, love.” Anders was mocking me a little.

“It really doesn't go with my Champion armor.” I could hear the desperation as I almost never made choices because of looks. My one dagger looked fragile, but I really wished I could have found a second as I preferred the way it looked and felt over this Key.

The Key was really ugly.

My bluff didn't work as I heard some chuckles. “If we find the rest, maybe.”

“Two Wardens went into a bar...” Varric's laughter wasn't hidden in his voice.

I made a face at him, but we moved back to that last unopened door. Beyond that was a larger room, and leaning casually against the corner of the cell was Jeneka.

“Did you really think those old wards would stop me?” The humor in her voice gave a hint of the earlier Warden in the notes.

“No, I didn't think that. Larius did, but most Warden-Commanders are a little crazy,” I said.

“Look at him, barely able to string two thoughts together, he's only made it this far because of you, Hawke.” She looked at me with surprise. “But _you are a Warden, too?_ I am your senior and you must...”

I had to laugh, how could she hope to fight anything if she couldn't tell that?

Anders slammed his staff against the stone floor. “I'm Senior Warden too, as is her sister. If you want to countermand our _ **orders from Warden-Commander,**_ _ **the Hero of the Fifth Blight,**_ _ **you have no grounds.”**_

“Are you Anders, the Scourge?” For an instant, her eyes were horrified before the superiority started to return.

Varric had Bianca at the ready when he laughed. “At last she realizes the Champion's lover just might be with her? Hawke, I thought my books were more popular than that. This one should be great.”

“These are Grey Warden secrets” Jeneka looked at Varric in horror now.

“This was just some Carta kidnapping operation, why not bring an experienced businessman and warrior? You are the one to put these non-Wardens in the place to learn about the Wardens' big screw-up.” I was thinking her mind was at least half as bad as Larius.

Bethany was snide this time. “Or did you think an experienced mage who managed to stay free would be easy to kidnap? Our _family_ would be a full Deep Roads squad.”

“You can still turn away, Jeneka. Do not listen to his voice.” Larius sounded coherent this time.

“We found your own notes commenting on Corypheus' influence on Wardens stationed here? When did you fail too?” Bethany asked.

“He only wants to be free. Like all mages, like the Scourge, here.” Jeneka sounded almost harried.

“He is a darkspawn and there is _**NO compromise**_ with them. _In battle, victory._ Not stuff darkspawn in a closet to keep for a rainy day to kill more.” Anders and Justice were speaking, spoiling to attack.

“You're fools! Larius should have died here years ago.” As those words ended, she cast a spell.

I had to guess it was a summoning by the forming of five shapes around us in the middle of the room. Smothered curses followed me as I closed to stab Jeneka.

But her repulsion knocked me into one of her summonings and she ducked through a doorway.

Anders shouted, “Revenant!”

I could not pursue her when four darkspawn emissaries were summoned too.

“My sword isn't damaging him,” Fenris called.

Varric grunted and said, “Bianca hurts the others.”

The emissaries weren’t attacking us, though the revenant was swinging at Paws.

I picked the nearest even as Anders said, “They protect him, kill them first.”

We killed the emissaries quickly as Fenris harried the revenant. I knew when the last emissary had stopped protecting it when Fenris made a satisfied cry.

Larius had been attacking the revenant, fruitlessly.

“I believe you are correct this time about compromise, mage.” The elf sounded a little surprised.

Anders scooped his arms around me for a kiss. “I'm _still_ here, love.”

“You must hurry!” Larius tried to interrupt us.

“We must rest a few minutes.” Anders said angrily to the ghoul. He whispered in my ear. “She might have a spell to bind him... but what bound him before was blood magic. We don't know how to strengthen the seal.”

“He's been so wrong about many things, but not all. They both want him freed.”

Anders held me closer. “We can't stop that... You should not rely on my advice, love. I hear him too much and he wants to be free. That need for freedom is hard for me to deny.”

I looked him in the eyes. “You don't want freedom to own slaves. He wants only his own freedom to be an arse. Both you and Justice believe in freedom far more than this demand for one cruel creature's madness.”

He sighed with a relaxation that could be felt through his body. “Yes. Thank you, love.”

Whispering in his ear again, I wanted to hurry. “I don't trust either farther than I can throw them. Just be ready to take both down,” I licked his ear, just a little, as I ran my hands down his armor.

“Who's teasing with the innuen...?” Anders didn't finish his thought, but braced my head for a possessive kiss.

Fenris coughed from right beside us. “We must keep moving.” He moved back to Bethany and Paws.

“Anders, you tell Varric and I'll speak to my sister.”

He nodded and I passed on the plan to Bethany as Anders bandaged Varric. I saw Beth speak with Fenris as we found and climbed another set of wide stairs. This must take us to that chamber we saw when we were outside the crevice.

Corypheus, Jeneka, and Larius had harmed too many from their actions. Maybe they were better once, but I had assassinated many who were less callous. This place was a boil on the face of Thedas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	30. The Lost and Tainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they climb to the top of the prison tower, Jeneka tries one more time to convince an angry Hawke... At least Varric has his slant for his story.

_\--- x x ---_

**Grey Warden Prison, Tower Apex**

**Anders:**

As we climbed the stairs within the rock that made the sides of the crevice, I felt eager. This should be the last floor of this blasted tower.

Soon I would be free of the memories and desires of a mage that made my... made our skin crawl.

_**Is this our eagerness or his?** _

I didn't have an answer, but over the last days, Corypheus' dreams were both far more coherent and far more cruel than what Trinna and Alistair said of the Archdemon's. The usual darkspawn, the dumb ones, were cruel as a side effect of their destruction. Corypheus played favorites in his cruelty.

I might have become a favorite in his world, but that wouldn't have helped most of my friends or Dera.

“You're quiet, Blondie. You and Glowy holding up?” Varric asked, his quiet voice only a little louder than an ancient party I was trying to ignore.

“For now.” I held up Hawke's hand in mine as we reached a landing and door. “He's a blood mage and darkspawn emissary, so there isn't any conflict. I just have to help Hawke and survive.”

We watched as Hawke checked the door, and I tried to stay close without getting in her way.

I wasn't sure if I succeeded, but Hawke didn't say anything.

“There seems to be a lot of surviving with the Hawkes. We saw only a bit of that... in those rogue messages in a bottle. That must have been unexpected and unintended by the Wardens, that someone stumbled on the pieces in Kirkwall and the true puzzle here. Papa Hawke was never very clear to see before, he hid too well.”

Hawke looked back with annoyance on her face. “I didn't really hide things about Father.”

“It was a puzzle, Hawke. How a mage, with a mage child yet, stayed free for that long? Twenty years, without being one of the legendary Witches of the Wild who does it with sheer power? It was almost unbelievable.” Varric frowned for a moment. “The problem was that I was thinking of him like Sunshine, Daisy, and Blondie. They aren't subtle like rogues are. It'll make for a much better story...”

I knew he was also hearing bits of the emissary's call, but this seemed to distract him and keep him focused.

Hawke opened the door with a click and fresh clean air rushed through towards us, nighttime stars visible through the opening.

Stepping carefully through it was like a taste of freedom, and I pulled Hawke close in my rush of joy. “That crevice felt too like like the Deep Roads for being open to the sky.”

She wriggled close, making me almost wish we could find some privacy, and the crickets I could hear made this seem like a normal wilderness. 

Hawke said. “It almost feels like weeks since we were outside. I missed the sky.”

Sliding my hands around her waist, I had to smile. “You belong up here, love. I understand why your father didn't fight the Wardens when he got in here; whether he knew blood magic or not, he could not have defeated all of them. He was a good man and he had to get back to Leandra. I can't protect my Champion like he did, as much as I'd like to...”

Dera poked my chest with a finger. “That's about as much as I want to protect you, so we're stuck with it.”

Paws growled and barked quietly.

Hawke snorted. “Sit on her if you get the chance, boy. But I want you to guard Anders and Bethany...” She whistled and made a little gesture toward Larius, who stood a few steps ahead.

The mabari nodded and growled.

Bethany and Fenris whispered only steps away, the white and black of their hair making a pleasant contrast.

Still, I could hear the dreams of an evil creature, seeping into my soul even more than the alarm and disturbance of the usual darkspawn or the _almost_ rational words of the Architect. I wanted this over, and Corypheus to go into the Void where Meredith and the Architect had already gone.

With a last smile, Hawke stepped forward. “Time to finish this.”

Stepping out of the alcove we were climbing slightly above the surrounding terrain, looking over other wind or water smoothed rocks as far as the eye could see. The crevice we had been exploring wasn't alone in the landscape, and some of the pillars of rock looked as tall as the tower. All they lacked were the dwarven paragons carved on them. 

The wind seemed to pick up when we reached the top of the slightly wandering open air stair. Fallen pillars filled a terraced area at the end of a bridge that led back to the tower.

The dwarven workmanship was impressive, considering the ages and winters that passed. At first glance the top looked intact, but there were some places where damaged pieces were gone. Who could do any repairs?

It just looked dwarven, in a style little different than the one square in Kirkwall and Proving ground in Orzammar. What was very different were the griffins placed at cardinal directions that were sources or endpoints of magical energy flowing into the open air chamber. It was the pale orange of the defenses below, but less smooth... more turbulent.

I was the first to speak. “Let me guess, the prison.” It had more light and fresh air than the cells under Kinloch.

My shudder at that memory made Hawke look at me with worry, and I forced a smile.

“Oh, that's nice...” Varric sounded satisfied and maybe approving.

Hawke squeezed my hand. “What's so nice about it?”

The storyteller waved his arm ahead. “I was just wondering what someplace sinister and foreboding would look like. And here it is.”

What was foreboding to me wasn't that chamber, but how much we were being affected. We'd grown silent, moreso than when we could see where we would soon be fighting.

“Only blood magic affects minds like this,” Bethany said quietly.

“Anders, what about Mew?” Hawke asked.

Ser Mew had been singed by Jeneka the first time, and an emissary the second. I wasn't sure he could survive the third time. I turned back to the stairs, pulling Hawke with me. “He should be fine for the short time back there.”

I made a nest for him with some food and shut the stair door while he was distracted. I didn't want to think about him wandering around, and cast him into a nap.

Paws was canny enough to not even step through the door.

The others watched the tower and only shook their heads that nothing happened while we were gone.

Stepping out onto the bridge, it swayed slightly in the breeze.

Maybe that was just me.

Jeneka and the other three Wardens stepped into view. She said, “You're too late, Larius.”

Hawke chuckled.

\- x -

**Hawke:**

“See, Larius, we didn't need to hurry. It would have been more fun to watch her go insane waiting,” I told the ghoul. For all the noises they both made about Jeneka opening the seals, she hadn't done a thing, just ran around and made threats.

Jeneka frowned at me. “Hand over Hawke, and I'll give you a quick death.”

Anders gripped my hand in a grip of iron. “No one hands over Hawke.”

I saw Bethany rolling her eyes, but I was just as glad they kept obsessing on me. “I give _quicker_ deaths. This is your last chance to stand down, _Senior_ Warden.” I put all my anger at her becoming a turncoat in my voice.

Larius spoke again. “Hawke has made her choice – the right one.”

“The right choice, or the only choice? Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree.” Jeneka looked smug at what she thought was a big surprise.

But Papa's words, preserved when he bound those demons, already warned us. He still protected us, this many years gone.

“It is in the past. It doesn't matter.” Larius tried to deny.

He wasn't convincing.

Hoping for more a more useful answer, I prodded him. “What's she talking about, Larius? What does Jeneka mean by 'not allowed?'”

Larius said, “How does she know this? Alec, did you tell her?”

The warrior with streaks of gray in his hair looked regretful, but didn't speak.

The former Commander wouldn't meet my eyes when he spoke. “Malcolm Hawke was reluctant, had to be... persuaded.”

I'd worked with smugglers and thugs; there were few ways they persuaded the reluctant. He was no less insane before he became a ghoul. He had been part of the problem long before Jeneka.

Anders' arms went around me, and I realized I had tensed, about to attack. His eyes were the hard blue of his spirit and they shook his head a tiny bit.

I could see glowing from where Bethany stood and heard Fenris swear under his breath.

Taking a deep breath, I concentrated on wringing as much from the dead man as I could.

Larius looked off the bridge, not aware of his death sentence. “I was Warden Commander. It was my duty. I delivered an ultimatum – help us, or you'll never see her again.”

I had no words for a moment, but Fenris whispered, “Wait...”

Bethany snarled, “You threatened Father?”

I was more disturbed by the indirect threat. “You were going to kill our _mother_?”

“No, never! He came with us. I never had to decide her fate. She was never told about what passed between Malcolm and me,” Larius insisted.

“That doesn't make it better,” Bethany said, outraged. “That threat was an attack.”

I was sure Larius didn't know any married people. Father would have warned Mother. This explained why she did not want Carver to try to become a Grey Warden during the Blight.

I looked at Anders, because he must have convinced Mother that not all Wardens were bad.

He was angry, his brown eyes hard. “You threatened those you are supposed to protect, _Commander_ _._ This was not to defeat the Blight but to feed from it like carrion.”

Jeneka thought she'd won her point about Larius. “You see, Hawke? How can you trust anything Larius says?”

“Who said I believed Larius? You have a low opinion of our intelligence and the evidence inside this place.” I doubted my smile was friendly. “Malcolm Hawke warned us years ago, when he raised us. He taught us not to throw away lives the Maker gives, like you want. Larius' actions are reprehensible, but he's still right about Corypheus.”

“You can come willingly or not, Hawke. I just need your blood,” Jeneka said.

“I can't write stuff _this_ bad,” Varric said as he readied Bianca.

I marked Jeneka as highest priority target; she led the others who wouldn't even speak to us. We were Wardens and she wanted our blood like any maleficar. We became Wardens to serve, not to have those lives sacrificed in vain.

Just after I did that, Bethany smashed down on them, fire rained down from Anders' magic and Varric's Bianca. By the time Fenris and I had closed, Jeneka was an easy kill for me, no challenge at all.

The others didn't last long enough to attack us.

Once they were down, Anders said, “Alec might survive, should he?”

I pointed at Larius, who was looking down at Jeneka's body. “Anders, Bethany, you've been among more conventional Warden groups. Could Alec question or object to her orders?”

“Anytime, our experience matters,” Anders said decisively.

Bethany spoke at the same time. “Not in the field.”

That was the problem. Alec was a product of the same training as Bethany was, from his silence. “Drag all the bodies outside. I don't know how many pride demons this seal will have, but I don't want to trip over them. We'll decide about him later.”

I considered dumping Jeneka over the edge, but she'd once been sane and left us the clues we needed.

That left the seal in the middle of the room, where the jagged and thin streams of orange energy arced over our heads. The griffins were speaking or spitting the energies from the little balconies.

When I walked up to the seal it didn't feel like the other seals, nor did I see any demons about to attack. Holding the key over the seal, nothing happened and the four pedestals seemed inert this time. “Any ideas?”

I wasn't surprised when Larius was silent.

Bethany said, “The four cups at the feet of the statues have the same colors as those streams below, or almost the same. What could be the red one is pinkish or purplish.”

“That could be the seals failing,” Anders said a little desperately.

I hurried back to his side and his face smoothed a little.

“Where'd they hide his body?” Varric asked, looking around the room. “Too bad we can't just finish him now.”

Bethany looked unhappy, too. “The Veil is thin here, from all the death and pain of all those bodies we found. The ancient Wardens must have trapped him partway across, not in the Fade, not in the real world.”

Anders' face was a mask and I worried. He knew about these issues, but was quiet.

Touching his cheek, I was glad to see his face soften. “Anders? Any ideas, or can I help?”

His smile was wistful and he pulled me closer. “I am afraid, love. The whispering has gotten clearer after Jeneka died. I can't be sure right now if any ideas are mine.”

Kissing him, I wanted to remind him of what Corypheus couldn't touch. When he finally relaxed enough to return my kisses, I regretted pulling back.

Anders' grin was lopsided. “That kind of distraction, Justice doesn't mind anymore.”

\- x -

**Anders:**

_**It wasn't just physical distance that helped.**_ Justice was a little irritated.

Hawke's lips were redder and eyes lidded a little, and I ran my fingers down her back to feel her substance over the Magister's ghostly visions.

_**Maybe you should bring the other Hawke close like that too. That should be even more effective** _ _**to resist his magic** _ _**.** _

_Oh, no, we don't. Corypheus_ _wants power and what I feel for Hawke has nothing to do with that. Besides, Bethany and I don't feel that way, and Fenris would not take it well._ I wasn't sure if Hawke would either, which would defeat the whole idea.

One more kiss and it was time to get started again.

“I'm not comfortable with the support on those balconies. When was the last time they were repaired?” Hawke looked at the griffin with the orange-glowing Joining cup at its feet.

Larius spoke. “He stirs. Slay him now, before he wakes. Before his strength comes. The key. It's not strong enough. Use your blood. Free him and slay him.”

Her voice sugar sweet, Hawke said, “ _Everyone_ wants my blood.”

I said, “I want what's around it more.”

Paws growled, his gaze moving between Larius and the closest energy stream.

Bethany said, “That wasn't helpful, Larius. You have to have known more if you were here with Father.”

After a long moment of silence, Hawke moved to the orange gemmed cup, but as soon as she touched it, a wave of energy exploded from the statue in all directions.

The energy buffeted Hawke and I; it took a moment to shake it off. The orange stream arcing from this griffin was no more, and the cup at the griffin's feet had magical flames in a fiercer orange now.

Bethany spoke almost immediately. “That seems to have weakened the spell.”

“Just three more to go.” Hawke looked at the seal and remaining streams above us.

Larius spoke again from near the seal. “You must hurry, release him now.”

“Do you know anything useful? That is no different than what that _mag_ e told us!” Fenris had his blade out as he snarled at Larius.

After a pause to make sure everyone was ready, Hawke touched the rose colored Joining cup. When she touched it the flames appeared, even as she cried out. The flames were a bright red instead of pink, and Hawke held her hand as if she'd been cut.

I moved around to heal her even as she said, “Well, it's red like the streams below, now.”

Fenris sounded worried. “Are you certain this is a good idea?”

Not looking any happier than I felt, Bethany answered him. “I suppose he won't stop coming after us unless we do this.”

“Probably not. It takes Hawke blood to open his prison. I imagine he won't stop until he has what he wants.” Hawke was paler than the loss of blood warranted.

“Isn't that always the way with these ancient prisons?” Fenris said.

I _thought_ he was trying to make a joke. I didn't think it a good time to tell him it wasn't funny.

Varric said, “You must tell me more about that later, Broody. What ancient prisons haven't you been telling me about?”

I noticed that the slight haze or mist around the seal seemed to have thinned out.

With a sigh, Hawke activated the third cup, and the bluish cup brightened to a fierce blue and I tried to keep to my feet.

More than that, I could feel the unlocking of the ancient magics around and through me. “He's almost free now. He's aware of us, of you, Hawke.”

I didn't know how much he knew of Hawke.

_How much was he learning from me?_

_**I believe he has not gained that much from us. I was what he desired and he whispers at us. You have not agreed to his offerings.** _

That helped a little. He might control us with blood magic, but he wasn't corrupting us.

_**He does not tempt like demons through some ideal, but a trade of ancient knowledge of power.** _

I didn't _want_ his spells and neither would Bethany. A good meal, Hawke, and the right to defend myself from Templars, those were what I wanted.

Varric and Fenris spoke at the same time.

“You feel that? It's like something is lifting here.” Varric said, his voice a little more cheerful.

Fenris' voice was flatter. “Can you feel that? The air is changing.”

“What?” Hawke must not have felt it.

Varric sounded uncomfortable. “I wish I knew, Hawke. You don't feel it?”

“The Veil is... rippling. I'm surprised you're feeling it, Varric.” Bethany looked at him.

“Hey, I'm a Paragon of sensitivity,” the dwarf objected.

Hawke looked worried, so I whispered to her, “Be glad you are so protected, love.”

“No one else is.”

“Hurry! He is breaking free.” Larius sounded frustrated... for a ghoul.

Hawke snorted. “So what? Let him lose strength doing that if he's in a hurry. Maybe we should go back and rest first.”

I thought her comment started as sarcasm, but I could see the surprise dawning on every face but Larius'.

“No, you will free him so he can be killed.” The once Warden-Commander ordered.

Bethany suppressed a grin. “You keep watch here, Commander.”

Hawke moved back across the bridge.

We didn't really sleep, and we spent only a few minutes getting ready: casting minor healing, preparing grenades, drinking some water, and making other small preparations. It was still under an hour of the sleep I'd put on Mew.

Approaching the last griffin, the silence was almost brittle.

Fenris said, “Here we are. The last one.”

“Last chance to change your mind, Hawke.” Varric said as he cradled Bianca.

“Be careful, Sister.”

Hawke looked at the others and then a longer look at me.

We had no other options, unless we wanted to let it fail or be taken down by another Jeneka... So I only squeezed her hand.

The wave of energy made me stumble, yanking Hawke back another step. The flames were only green for a moment before becoming white.

The pedestals around the seal itself were finally glowing a little, with a white light.

Hawke frowned. “Looks like it wants blood again.”

I remembered how weak she was after the last seal and insisted, “I'm healing you this time.”

Dera's eyes were stricken and she whispered, “I don't know if I could take cutting myself several times, Anders.”

Taking a deep breath, I cupped her face and traced the swirl on her cheek with my thumb. “I will be careful, love.”

She leaned against my touch and closed her eyes.

Leaning over I gave her the briefest of kisses. “For luck, love.”

“Is Blondie going to share that luck with the rest of us?” Varric called over.

“Wouldn't want Bianca to get jealous,” I said as I saw that Bethany and Fenris shared a quick embrace too.

Hawke looked better and asked us, “Ready?”

Then she drew a smaller dagger than the Key, and dripped blood on a pedestal again.

As soon as the blood touched the metal the glow faded; force magic pushed me away from her and the seal platform.

The Key floated off Hawke and over the platform itself. In what felt like an age where I couldn't move, the key began to spin and a larger explosion of arcane force pushed Hawke and the Key away from the seal.

I struggled to my feet even as Hawke did as well, and I saw a figure emerging from the seal itself.

It was an attenuated figure, barely human in proportion and much taller than me. His head and face was stretched and misshapen like the Architect's, with what almost looked like a single insect-like mandible. His gaze was not coherent, but barely focused on this chamber and not truly on us.

The pressure of his dreaming was gone.

This was Corypheus.

_\--- x ---_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	31. The Source of the Stench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corypheus is revealed and he asks for an escort to speak with a priest. This might be difficult as those temples are long gone. Then he blames the messengers...

_**Grey Warden Prison, Tower Apex** _

**Hawke:**

Hurlocks and genlocks. I felt a looming presence of darkspawn like an acid and stinking miasma around me, like the most revolting scent from a privy overdue to be cleaned. It was a scent that didn't just make you sick, but crawled up your nose and into your watering eyes. It was an edged fog that pitted the newest field tools and that you _had_ to breathe in. The taint pooled around us. Holding my breath until I passed out wouldn't help.

I just didn't know where Corypheus and his horde of darkspawn were. This was an empty room.

When I looked at Fenris and Varric, it was obvious that they weren't feeling this. Anders and Bethany had a pinched look about their eyes, but I worried much more about Anders.

If I was called murderer and Anders called Scourge, we paled in comparison to the idiots who caused so many deaths and so much misery because they thought darkspawn could be tamed. My worries were starting to burn away, because this was my skill: causing bloody and swift death.

Despite all my wishing to make my father proud, that was what I was best at.

Darkspawn weren't some kind of race like the Tal-Vashoth or wyverns that had young, even carrion young who ate people. They weren't even some kind of merging like fade spirits and humans where the human remains still. Anders was still recognizable to the Warden Nathaniel after Justice, though Isabela had complained.

Darkspawn came from contaminated injury or when captured women became corrupted and lost broodmothers. Taking Jeneka's deal was infecting helpless people, paying the blackmailer in other people's lives. Wardens had some choice, but they had no right to choose the deaths of strangers and innocents as a group to save their own hides. No responsibility protect and preserve _darkspawn_.

We will all die, Wardens or not.

I wanted to save as many innocents as I could, and there were many of those in Kirkwall, despite Corypheus' influence.

Stop this and we prevent or reduce the next Vengeance. Anders restrained Vengeance so much better once we left Kirkwall.

Anders was still a strong man, and his fingers were gentle as he traced my tattoos. So he kissed me and said, “For luck, love.”

I was just glad that this was still the warm and honeyed eyes of my Anders, despite the weight on him in this pit.

Varric's voice cut in. “Is Blondie going to share some luck around?”

Anders possessively pulled me the tiniest bit closer. “I thought Bianca got jealous?”

“Seems there aren't nearly enough Hawkes to go around.” The dwarf chuckled with a nod at Bethany and Fenris where they nearly touched as they whispered.

The seal platform wasn't marked the same way as the others, and Anders muttered something about raw energies as I prepared to break the last seal. As I bled to break the magic Papa laid down, I felt a little wistful. We probably wouldn't find any more spells that held his preserved thoughts like a journal.

Hearing his voice again... reminded me of how much I missed his guidance. He always made the right choices.

Then I was blown back when the seal fell.

Unfurling like some flower on a stem, Corypheus rose out of the seal platform itself.

I felt like I was drowning in the harshest acid. This was like all the taint in Thedas in one spot. Was this how the Archdemon felt?

Could all Wardens feel this now?

A tiny part asked this would kill me like an Archdemon could?

Anders let go of my hand, a harsh expression on his face as he glared up at the taller Corypheus.

Corypheus spoke in a parchment voice with his words holding strange rhythm. “Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty? You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte.” Corypheus sounded like some irritated, old coot.

I almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

Anders explained for Varric and Fenris. “Dumat was the first Old God to become an Archdemon. There haven't been temples to him since ancient Tevinter.”

Sigrun had filled in most of what I hadn't already picked up from Anders.

Behind my back, Varric whispered. “Blondie, I'm not sure I like feathers anymore.”

“I see your point,” Anders admitted, his voice low.

The near hump of feathers on Corypheus' shoulders looked _wrong,_ like his shoulders were misshapen, too.

Corypheus had not reacted to our words at all, but he looked at Anders and maybe Bethany. “You look human. Are you not citizens of the Empire? Slaves then, to the dwarves? Why come you here?”

Bethany sounded almost patient. “The empire is long gone.”

The Magister seemed to be trying to understand our words.

I didn't know any Tevene or Arcanum. “Slaves of dwarves, Varric? You never mentioned that.”

“No one told me, Hawke.” Varric sounded uneasy too.

Fenris snarled, “Magisters think only in terms of Magisters and slaves.”

“Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any Magister of Tevinter. On your knees! All of you!” Corypheus had gotten past his confusion enough to make demands.

I answered with anger. “This is _not_ Tevinter. The Free Marches have not been part of the Imperium for six hundred years.”

“We kneel to no mage,” Fenris declared with only a slight glowing.

“You! You are what held me. I smell the blood in you.” Corypheus said at me.

“You smell dead idiots, darkspawn, and sweat. Forty generations bound you here.” I said.

He cried upward in frustration. “Dumat! Lord! Tell me. What waking dream is this?”

Justice was losing patience, because Anders had drawn himself up with his eyes glowing. “ _ **This is no dream. Your time is over**_ _ **.**_ ”

Corypheus was still pleading to the roof. “The light. We sought the golden light. You offered... the power of the gods themselves.”

Bethany muttered, “Pride.”

I wondered who offered them the power of gods: a demon of pride or someone tricking them?

“But it was... black... corrupt. Darkness... ever since. How long?” The ancient sounded betrayed.

 _Who was_ _so_ _powerful_ _to offer that to the Magisters_ _and be believed_ _?_

Larius spoke again. “The Golden City. The first violation. The Magisters who brought us the Blight.”

“Commander, I'm so _sorry_ you forgot all this.” _Shut up and don't wast_ _e_ _our time, you_ _old_ _bastard._

“Dumat? Have you forsaken me? I am your faithful servant...” Corypheus sounded lost.

Anders said. “He doesn't seem to even know of darkspawn, despite his taint. The darkspawn aren't a conveniently explicit lesson on the dangers of magicto him.”

I shrugged. “Unless Corypheus is real, everyone who knows what happened is long dead.”

“You don't think it's a little convenient?” Anders was suspicious. “What does every sane man and woman in Thedas fear? The Blights. Why not pin those on mages, too?”

“Honey, I pin it on stupid. There's stupid princes and stupid Chantry Mothers and stupid Templars, and yes, stupid mages.” I looked at Corypheus, who was squinting at me, now.

“What manner of speech is this? How long have I slumbered?” The Magister asked, as if he _might_ be paying attention.

“Six hundred years to a thousand.” Then I spoke to the others quietly, glad they weren't adding to the situation. “If he's been calling the Wardens to free him, what's his plan?”

Larius was following better, now. “He slept. While the seals held, he could not wake. He knows nothing of time that passed.”

Anders was irritated. “Yes. Their attempt may have been ridiculous, but their crossing through the Veil is clear from those records and his words. I _hate_ that the Chantry's propaganda is even partly right...”

Fenris snorted. “Pride --- you needed to meet more Magisters to understand.”

“He tainted the world,” Larius said insistently. “He speaks to all who carry the corruption. Darkspawn. Wardens. He brought Jeneka here. Brought you...”

“Neither listens, even now.” Fenris spat. “ _He_ acts like any other Magister.”

“We must kill him now. Before he comes back to reason.” Larius grabbed my arm as he spoke.

I shook it off. I trusted Sebastian far, far more than this former Warden, but I wanted all information I could get before I killed. “You really think he's one of the original Magisters? That he's been to the Black City? That he went after the Maker? That we should be honored by his interest?”

Corypheus continued his babble about ages past. “The city! It was supposed to be golden! It was supposed to be ours!”

 _Supposed to be?_ _W_ _e have paid the price for_ _whoever sold_ _you_ _that bill of goods_ _._

“If I cannot leave with you to the temple, I will leave through you! I seek the light!” Corypheus began casting some kind of magic.

I pulled my blades. As I did, the _brave_ Commander who set us to kill Corypheus, scuttled out to the bridge.

Paws followed with a growl and he would guard against the bastard doing anything.

Justice spoke, his glow tightly contained as he cast a spell. “ _ **The Fade is not for mortals**_ _ **to corrupt. You will answer for what you have**_ _ **done**_ _ **.**_ ”

I called to him as I moved away to mark the tainted Magister. “Justice, don't bother. He's insane.”

Corypheus demanded from the air above him. “The blood, Lord. The blood is mine!”

I darted over to slice deep into the Magister, who was too tall for a quick kill.

“DUMAT! Grant me your power!” The Magister called, and another stream of energy came from each of the four huge statues.

Damn it. Wyvern statues weren't dragon gods. _Where was the power coming from?_

The visible field of raw magic expanded from the tainted Magister, pushing both Fenris and me off the seal platform. The Magister looked better.

Varric asked, “Didn't that Archdemon die? How can this be... Sunshine, Blondie?”

“Later!” Anders shouted as he studied Corypheus.

I watched for these defenses to fall so I could attack, nothing lasted forever in combat.

Corypheus rose up in the air with a cry that was almost orgasmic. “Ah! The fire in my veins! You cannot avoid my fires!” He turned as he rose and his eyes were full of flames, flames that flowed over of him as if he was within a waterfall of fire. When he raised his arms, a constant stream of flame came from his hands.

“What the? Back!” I shouted over the Magister's screams of triumph.

We retreated away from the seal platform, but the archway to the bridge was blocked with a shimmering field. I could dimly see Paws facing Larius when we retreated out onto one of the balconies.

Corypheus was turning blindly, trying to cover two directions at once. Obviously he had no idea where we were.

“Hawke!” Anders pointed at the black energy arcing overhead.

 _Black energy?_ That was many kinds of bad.

Anders gestured us closer. “He might be using the energy that was bound into the seals. Even if not that, the seals are helping, focusing the energy. You must... I think you...”

“What, Blondie?

“Hawke needs to disrupt it, similar to the orange ones.” Anders looked unhappy, and ran his fingers down my arm, picking at the gauntlets.

The fire just passed the archway of the balcony we were on and it felt very hot, but not too bad. We had a moment.

I stepped against Anders at the railing. “Honey, how are you?”

“Better and worse, love. The dreams of Tevinter are gone, but the force of his magic and will are growing. Before it was seductive whispers that were hard to ignore, but now he's beating on the door. I.. I'm not sure how long I can hold.” His face looked desperate for a moment, but he healed me before he gently put my palm against the statue.

The black stream disappeared and I felt cold for a moment. Bethany cursed.

As I looked behind us, shades appeared and I attacked the closest, pushing to take them down quickly. I felt energized. I didn't exactly want to admit that killing things made me feel better.

_\-- x --_

**Anders:**

As Fenris finished off the last shade, I could see that they were linked to the seal magics and the griffin statue that swelled with nature magics. I'd prepared to do some quick healing magic, but the dissipation of the shade restored us somehow.

Bethany met my eyes and nodded her agreement.

Varric patted Bianca. “One down, three to go, Hawke.”

I took her hand, though she watched Corypheus where he sent fire around the room. She and Varric were studying the sweeping fire.

Justice and I tried to reinforce ourselves against Corypheus' pressure. Temptation was over, now he _would_ break us if he could.

After a few moments, Hawke pulled me after her as she moved to the second balcony to our left. I wasn't quite paying attention and nearly tripped. We just nipped in ahead of the flames.

I healed everyone quickly and decided to maintain my healing aura. I couldn't spare the attention to attack with Corypheus hammering on us. Justice wanted to attack Corypheus, but Bethany was freer. I worried that interfering with the seal magics was sapping Hawke.

When I squeezed her hand, Hawke touched the ice marked griffin. More shades appeared and attacked when the dark energy was pulled back into the griffin. I suspected the shades were made from that energy that passed through Hawke for an instant.

This energy frightened me, though she seemed fine when I checked.

Corypheus shouted in the wrong direction. “You cannot harm me!”

I heard several smothered snickers.

_**There seems no injunction that we cannot harm this emissary.** _

I didn't trust myself much right now. I'd only sent a single spell at him earlier, but I saw the Hawkes' attacks. I'd thank Andraste in a Chantry if we got out of this whole.

We had a moment to heal and rest as the emissary swept past our balcony again. Varric was smirking as he studied the Magister still inside the tower itself.

Hawke led off to the left again. The pounding at my mind became a battering ram, and I was staggering by the time Hawke dragged me up then next balcony. She crouched down next to me against the rail as my contact with her helped against the Corypheus.

I couldn't open my eyes for a moment, and turned my face up to her light. “Love, I'm trying to... hold on...”

Hawke's grip was almost painful, but I felt safe enough until the fires passed by. When I could stand on my own again, Hawke disrupted the griffins' magics and the shades were obliterated. We moved on to the next balcony.

Varric muttered something, but when the next group of shades manifested I didn't have time to chat.

Corypheus stopped spewing flames. I shouted a warning just before he appeared on the balcony with us, his taint nearly choking me.

“Burn, you miserable insects!” Corypheus shouted as he attacked us, close up this time.

Somehow his attack drew Hawke up into the air and I jumped up to pull her down.

Bethany smashed down on the Magister. Corypheus retreated when Fenris and Hawke attacked.

Before we could chase him back to the seal, he absorbed something from the statues and a fire exploded out from him in all directions. “The power is mine! I am restored! Scurry little rats. The maze closes in!”

I told myself his laughter was merely loud.

The floor erupted upward to make a maze of rock and stalagmites. It would slow us without providing anything to hide behind.

That _was_ new.

I didn't know this magic at all.

I didn't remember any legends of magic like this.

Hawke's eyes narrowed as she eyed the rocks.

There were some clear areas, but I watched Corypheus.

Hawke asked us, “Now what?”

“He's got so much energy, too much for fading wards to let him do this. These new streams must be interrupted too.” I thought he was somehow pulling energy directly from the Fade, but I didn't want to say it.

We repeated what we did before: run to balcony, interrupt energy stream, fight shades, and move to next. Now the sweeping fire and maze made it worse. Hawke chose our path while Varric watched the fire.

On a balcony, Corypheus' threat reached us as we fought shades. “You will die before you catch me, worm!”

Hawke muttered something rude.

The shade got too close and I dropped my healing field to attack. “Teach you to mess with a mage!”

Justice was pleased.

“Blondie, it won't live long enough to learn anything.” Varric wasn't as cheerful now.

The Magister howled, “Traitors!”

I didn't care what he thought. Bethany spat... like Fenris usually did.

“Hawke? Let's follow the nice Magister's advice and seek the fire...” Varric gestured to the right. “We'll have more time if we _follow_ the sweep.”

She cursed, but led us through the maze toward the right. It was slower and I had moments to study Corypheus when Hawke paused.

I felt almost rested when we entered the balcony.

Fenris looked back with a faint smile. “I will not complain about mage foolishness... at least this time.”

Disrupting this stream of energy and the next was almost routine. Bethany warned us when Corypheus disappeared from inside.

“The walls are closing in.” Corypheus gloated when he appeared among us to attack.

I saw he had a rocky skin. “We need to stun him to disrupt that spell.”

The brittle sound of grenades' breaking came even as I felt force magic slowing the emissary. He fled faster than last time.

Corypheus didn't look as arrogant, with deep wounds that had not healed. “Dumat! Grant me your presence!”

Seeing that he never bothered to learn healing was not a surprise.

More energies were drawn from the Griffin statues. These I knew: the pale blue of elemental ice magics. The chamber, despite being open to the sky on all sides, became winter frigid; it felt more like southern Ferelden or the Anderfels instead of the Vimmarks. Huge icicles filled the dome above us and they fell with little warning.

“Watch for the ice.” Hawke eyed a huge piece of ice that struck the floor, her hand absently gripping mine.

Bethany added, “Watch the rocks as well.”

Hawke got us to the nearest balcony again, where the ground was solid and air a little less frozen. “I thought Dumat was dead. Where's this coming from?”

“Generations of blood magic fed into those seals, Sister.” Bethany sounded ill.

Worse, his assault on our mind was growing again.

Corypheus's laughter echoed hollowly. “Was that a chill in the air?”Another wave spread out from him where he was surely blinded by the energies he was wielding. “Feel the chill! You cannot outrun it. You cannot escape my rule.”

Varric looked at the chamber, shaking his head. “Sweet mother of pearl!”

Fenris smirked. “Were you not complaining only a few weeks ago that you wanted new material?”

That made the dwarf grin. “If he pulls a dragon out of his ass, I'm leaving.”

_\-- x --_

**Hawke:**

When _Varric_ complained, another set of energy streams arced through the air. But we knew what to do now, and even with large chunks of ice, we disrupted the energy streams feeding Corypheus rapidly.

He wasn't happy. “No! You are stronger than I thought... but not strong enough!”

It wasn't even worth the breath to answer him.

“What's he doing, Sunshine?” Varric held Bianca ready.

“Look outside, Messer Tethras. He's summoned a storm around the tower. That's a lot of magic.” Bethany hadn't learned many lightning magics from Papa.

Varric chuckled. “I'll take a storm over his rocks and river of fire.”

I was worried, I was getting tired although the others seemed fine.

“Perhaps I need a little something more...” Corypheus gathered magic again before he disappeared.

Fenris flared blue again. “Here he comes.”

Anders glowed too. Even that gem he given by the First Enchanter was radiant, but his lyrium ring flared like the sun as Justice manifested briefly.

“The lightning strikes me,” Corypheus shouted.

Varric looked bemused. “Is that good or bad?”

“Good, but a very large rock would be better.” Bethany said.

Anders looked at the Magister, surrounded by fire, earth, and ice. “Bad, because he has the other three elements at his command.”

This time I expected Corypheus' arrival at the balcony, and both my blades sank deep into his back. I was so frustrated that I couldn't reach his skull from where I stood, for the instant kill he couldn't heal quickly enough.

Fenris clubbed him, blocking spells.

Corypheus retreated without more threats, until he had distance again. “Run all you like. I can reach you anywhere!”

We followed him this time, the fire was gone. He was weakening.

I ignored the falling ice and reached the bastard first.

“Love...”

The silence after that made me pause. Anders had dropped to his knees and was clutching his head, the Fade energies of Justice sputtering like Anders' voice. He was losing.

Bethany shouted, “He's... Sister, get out of the ward!”

I didn't care about burning.

Corypheus would die _first_.

This was the right decision.

I leaped up off a rock that was part of the maze and buried the Key in Corypheus' face. When he fell, I used the Bassrath-Kata's mass to slice through his neck and kick the head away. “I can reach _**you**_ anywhere, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	32. The Lost and Tainted, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corypheus is defeated and everything is fine, right?

**Grey Warden Prison, Tower Apex**

**Hawke:**

My head felt like a fell grenade had exploded inside, and I swept my eyes around as I ran over to Anders. I dropped down beside him on the now smooth floor. “I guess Grey Wardens _can_ kill him. Bethany and I were fine, honey.”

He pulled me against himself for a desperate kiss. His breathing was irregular panting for a long moment as he held me and shivered. “Love, it was _too_ close... once he started to believe we were a danger to him. It was the taint instead of blood magic.”

Bethany spoke from behind us after I felt the winter sunlight of her healing magic. “I didn't feel much of it, just a wind.”

“Sunshine, even he mentioned the blood in the bindings. How far back does the magic go for Malcolm's ancestors? Ancestry is powerful everywhere.” Varric looked out at Larius, who was standing straighter now.

Paws was still watching him.

Anders pulled us to our feet, and his gaze had gone to the Warden-Commander as well. I saw that Varric and Fenris were watching the tainted Warden too.

“I do not look forward to seeing you like that.” Fenris said in an intense voice at Bethany.

Bethany's voice was quiet. “No one knows how many years the Maker will grant. We can only hope it is enough.”

Seizing her arms, he insisted. _“How long?”_

“Maybe twenty-five years, because I won't wait as long as him.” Bethany brushed aside Fenris' bangs without touching his face.

I looked at Anders as they suddenly embraced. I had mixed feelings about the Joining, but I wasn't going to regret that he stopped arguing about his Calling.

Paws growled at Larius, and our rest was over. I checked my favorite daggers and grabbed the Key again before I hurried over.

Larius spoke gravely and clearly. “You did well, Hawke. More than the Grey Wardens of old were able to accomplish.”

I flicked a look at Anders, who looked skeptical, too.

“I will tell the Warden-Commander of your service here.” Larius was smug, even gloating.

That was not justice for what the Warden-Commander had done to my parents and Kirkwall. “I'm sure that will get me a raise in pay and a keep of my own. Just how did you choose our father for this project?”

A shrug from the tainted Warden and he said. “It doesn't matter.”

Yes, yes it did matter, but this made me more wary than when he was just addled.

“The Warden-Commander?” Bethany sounded as suspicious as she should at this error. “I don't think we're supposed to come back from the Calling.”

The First-Warden Bayard should get the report on this, and I would report to Cousland for that.

Larius nodded. “I must try.”

After a pause, I asked, “Try what?”

“You've gained an ally today.” He sounding like he was giving us some mabari crunch. “My head is clear now. Without Corypheus' call, I can think again. Thank you for my freedom.”

I'd play along. “The other Wardens won't thank us for those deaths.”

Looking at the bodies of Jeneka and the others, Larius seemed not very regretful. “Jeneka ignored the Warden-Commander's express orders when she sought to free Corypheus.”

“Which Commander was that again?” Varric spoke up from where he'd moved a little apart. He had not relaxed either. “I might want to know which one to avoid.”

Bethany started to speak, but Fenris nudged her.

“I'm a little out of touch, but it doesn't matter.” Larius was dismissive.

Varric mouthed something snide, even if I didn't catch it.

“They'll be relieved she's gone. The prison stands no more. My gratitude you have, for my freedom.” He started to move away.

I followed. “I didn't do it for your thanks.”

Paws howled, a new note that almost made me shiver.

Larius paused as the howl continued. “Curb the doghren.”

I moved to stand next to Paws. “We're not done here, ghoul or whatever you are now, Larius. You blackmailed our father for this stupid place, condemning Kirkwall and its people to madness and violence for another generation. You didn't just condone it, you made it possible to continue making tainted.”

“You dare?” Larius was in shock, if that was still him. “I am... a Commander and _your duty is to obey me_.”

“I'm the Champion of Kirkwall. _I dare a lot more that._ You've nothing left but taint.” I was ready with two heavy daggers, the better to punch through heavy armor.

He drew his blade, as awkward as Carver when he was young. What wasn't awkward was the flames that surrounded both his blade and him. “I was content to walk away, to let you have your pathetic existence since I would be free. But _no one_ hinders me.”

“ _ **You are mortal, no matter your**_ _ **pride**_ _ **or power. I existed ages before you drew breath. You will not leave this place.**_ ” Justice was angry, but not berserk when he stepped forward too.

The ghoul looked at Justice more closely. “What are you? You. You are of the light somehow, how is this possible? Why are you here...?”

“ _ **I am**_ _ **J**_ _ **ustice, too long denied**_ _ **for Kirkwall, slaves and free alike.”**_ Justice glowed with Fade energy leaking out of his skin, Anders' staff raised like a great sword.

I was slower this time, and when Larius cast an arc of ice that got in my way, it felt inevitable. Hidden battle mage or possession, it didn't matter.

Attack him before he got stronger.

Sending a stunning grenade at the ghoul, I saw one of Varric's bolts pass through Larius, leaving him lurching a step back.

I yelled, “Ward yourselves! _**We**_ can take him.” as Paws ripped a deep tear in Larius' worn armor. I hoped Anders and Bethany had enough strength left to protect themselves first.

Throwing one of my blades, it sank into his gut, and Larius seemed to be slowing as reddish-black blood spilled out.

From the other side, Fenris' huge blade sliced through Larius' body, nearly in half. I pinned the remaining hand and stepped back as the mages threw more bolts at him.

Larius' hand clawed briefly as I waited for him to die, and then he stopped trying to move.

My headache was back, but not as bad.

I felt no guilt over Larius. He was a leader in this shambles before his Calling. This _could_ have been ended by a carefully selected team decades ago on his watch.

“ _The Maker looks on his Grey Wardens in sorrow.”_ Bethany looked doubtful as she started to burn the body. “He wasn't that strong... How can we be sure?”

“ _ **I am sure**_ _ **that both the**_ _ **ancient**_ _ **and that Larius would**_ _ **have**_ _ **continue**_ _ **d**_ _ **their injustices. They have no more reason t**_ _ **o**_ _ **change than a Templar.**_ ”

“He was not an Archdemon, and Sister did not change when she killed the Magister. This is not the same.” Bethany looked cross because she didn't like puzzles.

Anders looked stricken and he cupped my cheek to study my eyes. “I didn't even think of that, love.”

I wasn't worried about that right now, I was worried about... if this was a factor of the most tainted Warden present? Larius was the most tainted and now... it would be Anders or Bethany. “This would be a very bad time for a joke, right?”

“Or the best.” Varric said. His eyes were sad as he looked at Anders.

Anders' face fell more. “I was the most affected of us by far.”

I had to close my eyes. Anders didn't have any of the Hawke blood. “Right.”

I shoved him back, until he was against one of the pillars on the far side of the bridge, my arm against his throat blocking air.

Bethany cried out, but I couldn't lose my focus.

I would not allow him to be lost in possession again.

I promised.

Anders' eyes filled, and alternated with instants of Justice's outrage as he forced Justice down. Fenris stepped over to help restrain him, without insults or growling.

Fenris' hand began to glow, and Anders tried to shove away from him as he was losing coordination.

My eyes filled and overflowed, and I couldn't wipe them away. I hated this, but we had to be sure.

They didn't attack beyond pure muscle of fear.

Anders' struggles got weaker and then stopped when he went limp. As soon as Anders passed out, I caught him and cradled him in my lap. Bethany healed him a little and then stepped back.

Varric had gone and brought Ser Mew back. Then he put Mew on Anders even as my mage began to wake again.

He reached for my cheek and then diverted to Ser Mew. “I wish... I wish there was a better way to check for possession.”

“We cannot trust Alec.” I hated to say this to Anders, a healer at heart.

Anders looked at me. “Spineless piece of shit. They knew mages were susceptible and helped her.” The flicker of Justice was weaker.

Even Bethany had no objection.

I stood, realizing that Anders hadn't touched me of his choice, since he woke.

So I sliced the throat of the last of Jeneka's group, a helpless man, praying the Maker would look on us all with mercy. I doubted I would qualify.

Without many words, we searched the Warden bodies and then made a pile of all the corpses away from the bridge. There wasn't much here to burn with them, but we gathered what we could find to start the pyre.

Varric and I examined the Seal, the only feature in a bare chamber. The Seal had compartments, and one held a chest piece for a Warden scout's armor. That earlier Warden was crazy to put it here. The others held little more than ages of dust.

Then we approached the corpse of the old Magister and I wondered if he might have anything useful to us. Fenris looked like he wanted to kick the head around even if he didn't want to touch it.

Varric pulled an amulet away from the headless corpse. “You want this, Blondie?”

Anders looked at it as I started to drag the corpse out for burning.

My mage hadn't stayed near me since he woke. I knew why and I couldn't blame him, but it still hurt a little.

“It's a seal of Dumat. This amulet... no one's used that pattern since before the first Blight.” Anders managed to sound revolted and fascinated by its age. “It was unique to a sect in Tevinter who worshiped the god Dumat.”

“They're no myth, mage. Nor have the Magisters changed much since those days.” Fenris sounded bitter.

“I never was sure if what the Chantry told us was true or the big lie. It got easier to disbelieve after Patrice and even Vael's target practice.” Anders touched the amulet with only the tips of his fingers. “It got easier to believe it was all a lie.”

“Give it here! We already knew this,” Fenris demanded, grabbing the amulet from Anders.

“Some of the Chant may be true. Even if it's true, it doesn't justify punishing mages over a thousand years later.” I slid a little closer, hoping Anders wasn't shifting away consciously.

Well, it would be okay if it was one of his games.

He didn't look roguish right now. “What else might the Chantry know that we don't? I’ll need to study this when we get the chance.”

Varric smirked. “All we need to do is find the codex that lists the lies and the truth about the mages, in one neat list. Think of how well it would sell!”

“Mages get corrupted by their power as the Chant says. Destroy it, Sunny.” Fenris frowned. “Please.”

“Orana, doesn't she act like how the Chantry wants us to act? You've told me how she bothered you.” Bethany looked cross, though she had taken the amulet and added it to the white hot pyre.

Anders let me get close and I put my arms around him as he watched the fire for a few minutes. I put my forehead against his back and his fingers traced along my hands. Better was how he slowly relaxed within my embrace.

As the corpses collapsed down, the bones were just about all there were left.

“That was satisfying.” Fenris' smile was a little grim.

“No one is ever going to believe this one. Not in a million years.” Varric said.

I wanted this story to be believed. “I hope the important bits get out for scholars and leaders. They forget too much and Wardens hide too much.”

Anders got tense and his voice was unhappy. “I understand, love. Too many were trapped in here.”

Bethany glared at the tower and outer-works. “There never should have been a here to get trapped. How many Warden-Commanders like him made this madness possible?”

“Too many,” Fenris agreed.

I felt ill. “I hate this place.”

“Let me help, love...” Anders turned to face me, the touch of his magic making my head stop hurting.

Now all I wanted was to sleep and watch the fire.

_\-- x --_

**Anders:**

It was a shock to see the eyes of a killer when she cut off my air. I knew why something like that had to happen, but that was the first time those eyes had been directed at me.

Then I had to concentrate on thwarting Justice's panic. We had given her that life and death decision over us, months ago. And she had given up much so we might live and be free. I kept reminding him about Vengeance.

I was already dizzy when I could look outward again, and tears had soaked Hawke's face. I forced myself to not summon energy, despite the waves of fear sweeping through me and finally I couldn't move or speak and gray circles filled my vision.

The first breath I took consciously was so sweet.

I ached from all my struggling, but nothing more than that and I felt a bit of another's healing. I didn't want anyone close to me, and couldn't help glaring at the elf.

Dera was weaving on her feet when the bodies had been piled for burning.

Bethany spoke to Varric about what happened. “I had no idea before this that Father had helped the Wardens. Another bit of life I thought that I understood.”

“Don't worry, Wardens. I'll make sure the heroic Wardens are featured. Wardens versus controlled Wardens will make an exciting tale. I might even use some of Hawke's speeches.” Varric looked like butter would not melt in his mouth.

With Mew riding on my shoulders again, I could see how brittle Hawke looked when I turned to face her and felt a little guilty that I'd been avoiding her. I worried about a repeat of Orzammar.

Hawke tried to glare at Varric.

My magic rushed to her, soothing her strain and she relaxed into my arms. Adding the barest hint of a sleep spell, I suddenly had armfuls of sleeping Hawke.

“You gotta teach me that sometime, Blondie. That would help with critics.” Varric only smirked.

I settled down with Hawke, cleaning her face of her tears. “I can't help you with critics, you'll have to let future generations decide.”

“We should rest only until morning,” Bethany said. “I'm sure Aveline is worried, and then we will have to report.”

“Yes, Senior Warden...” I wasn't about to seek out Stroud in Ansburg, and my life had spun completely away from the brevity I thought it would be a year ago.

I carefully curled up alongside Hawke and she shifted next to my heart without waking. Smiling, I joined her in sleep.

A light touch along my cheek woke me in the morning light. Dera was still in my arms and smiling drowsily at me when she said, “Wake up, honey. We have a lot to do before we can leave here.”

“Love.” Limiting myself to an unchaste kiss, it would have to do for now. I was just glad we ended the Carta threat this started with in Orzammar.

She looked at me sideways when we sat up. “Do you mind if I try on that armor we found? It's a little less noticeable.”

I didn't want to say that I did mind. It was silly, she was a Grey Warden too and had killed too many darkspawn before her Joining. “Is it better?”

“It's about the same as my Champion armor.” She looked toward the sun. “Maybe it's for Carver. He wanted to volunteer, but Mother wouldn't hear of it.”

“Any trouble I've caused Trinna or Sigrun was not because they'd put up with nug-shit. I think your brother would have done well, from what I know of your family”

Hawke scrambled to her feet and gathered the armor. After stripping to her padding, she donned the ancient armor. The armor was subtly different: the ring mail and griffin crest, but the armor of a long forgotten Warden-Commander fit her well.

A low whistle came from Varric. “Well, now Hawke, or is that Warden-Commander Hawke?”

Hawke shook her head. “Champion is enough to live up to, Varric.”

“That might make the story easier to tell, without the Champion and apostate aspects.” Varric searched for his journal to make a few notes.

Bethany and Fenris stood up before we started moving through the ruins. That 'new love' stage would have been much more adorable if he hadn't threatened to rip my heart out so many times. But Bethany seemed happier.

I hadn't seen many mages even try for something more than flirtation, Inwil Surana had Cullen wrapped around her finger before Uldred broke Kinloch. There were rumors about Wynne, but flirtation in the Circle was the rule.

Bethany and Fenris were not flirting.

Hawke and Varric chatted about the route before we set off, and she spoke after we found a narrow end of the crevice. “We should stay a few days at least. The altars and all the other remains need destroyed. I almost wish I knew of some high enough in authority to make sure it's cleaned up the way Kirkwall wasn't when the Magisters left. Then, Anders and I need to move on.”

Thinking back to the remaining evidence of ancient and blood drenched magic, I wasn't about to disagree. Blood was life, but parasitic magic was _unjust_.

Aveline and her squad waited at the camp. “Hawke! We were worried.”

“It's a long story, Captain.” Hawke said with a sigh. “We've eliminated just about every threat. There might be a few darkspawn left, so Wardens and maybe some miners can raze the place.”

Aveline looked oddly at Hawke's new armor.

Dera smirked. “Found this, piece by piece...”

“Too bulky for me,” said Bethany.

“Hawke in a uniform. Andraste, I thought I'd never see that.” Aveline always would have preferred that Dera serve the city like her.

Hawke flushed. “If you can spare one or two to help with dismantling after the tale...”

“The true and full story, this time,” the Guard Captain said with a small glare at Varric.

Varric put his hands on his heart. “You wound me, Captain. I'll make sure you get a mint copy when it's printed. It makes for a grand tale of ambition and legacy and tragedy that the daughter of a chevalier should understand all too well.”

I regretted we didn't have anything good to drink for Varric's story.

Aveline was more skeptical when she said, “Right.”

“Captain, it's too real for one of my little fictions, I couldn't make up events as good as these. We have here the legacy of a father and mage, making sacrifices his family nearly never knew...” Varric pointed at Bethany and then nodded shallowly at Fenris. “Or the protector and lover who might never return to who he cares for the most. Or there's the legacy the man under threat of an ancient magic, with only the strength of his will to resist the insanity.”

I wasn't sure how to react to this start when Varric gestured at me. I could feel my lip twitch.

But Varric continued, pointing at Hawke. “Or the legacy of the leader who protected those he cared for, and many more from the insanity of others, even if no one knew.”

“That's a lot of legacies,” Aveline agreed. “Isn't there any legacy for the marksman?”

Dismissing it even as the words came out, Varric said, “A different legacy that isn't quite as exciting, of a rogue and survivor who got out alive when others didn't.”

Hawke said, “I'm going to hold you to telling the story of Tethras, Varric.”

Varric grunted an agreement.

The telling the tale took most of the day and we argued his interpretation, not that it usually did us any good. After that, Aveline and Donnic took half the guards back to Kirkwall with a short message for multiple Warden-Commanders. Aveline left fresher supplies for us and we made as much of a feast as we could.

After diner, Hawke and Bethany moved away to talk. I was glad they weren't tense and awkward when they moved away with Paws. I could relax a little, the mabari would watch over them.

I wanted to examine that dragon we killed in the dwarven stockade. I saw that the writing on the pillar seemed mostly nonsense and decorative.

Mew shifted and looked behind us despite the lack of sound. When I turned, Fenris was standing there, looking awkward.

“Have you even told Hawke?” he accused.

I couldn't think of much I hadn't told Dera. “Told Hawke what?”

“You bought that jewelry, didn't you? You're educated. Did the blood mage tell you to bind her like this last year?”

I could feel my eyebrows crease from my confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Now Fenris looked confused, too. “Giving earrings for marriage is the old way, one that all elves remember even in Minrathous. Sometimes they are all that might be left in war or if someone was sold away. No, I see you are ignorant.”

“Merrill thought they were cute...” _I gave these to Hawke last autumn, did Merrill say something to Hawke? Why wouldn't she? Why didn't she say something to me?_

To my surprise, Justice didn't comment, though I could tell he was amused. My hand went to my forehead to rub it absently.

Fenris laughed. “So, the abomination got himself married. Are you going to honor that commitment or is it just jewelry?”

I tried to speak with dignity. “That's between Hawke and I.”

He chuckled as he walked away. Any minute now, it would reach Varric and Bethany if it hadn't already.

_How was I going to tell Hawke? What was I going to tell Hawke?_

_\-- x --_

**Hawke:**

The sun was setting and I wanted to look at the one memento that was almost foreboding, a little away from the others. I felt uneasy with even touching the Key. It had reminded me of Papa, but that changed while I was here. Now, to me, the ugly weapon was more like the horn of a demon brought from the Fade somehow. Should I destroy it? Could I? Might I need it later?

Despite that, I was not going to use it regularly. It had few useful attack angles. It wasn't any more powerful than others I had. So I packed it away.

“Sister? Can we talk?”

I smiled at my sister, glad she felt more like the sister I remembered. “We can, unless we're dreaming this in the Fade and I'm missing a certain naked servant boy with a great big, feathery fan. That's okay, yours glows, too.”

Bethany grimaced and flushed. “Not about that, Aldera, about this place. I didn't expect some renegade dwarves to lead us to something like this.”

That made me sigh. “Few things for me have ever ended like they started. Maybe the Maker is having a joke with me.”

She smiled a little. “I kind of forgot that, Sister. Everything seems straight-forward in Ansburg.” She looked back at the tower top, still visible over the hill. “It's amazing how the past haunts us. All this hardship because of what happened so many years ago.”

I nodded, wondering where she was going.

“That was a big risk for Father to take without Mother's consent, to get involved with Wardens and darkspawn. Tempting the Blight is apparently a theme for our family. One glorious day, we'll learn to leave well enough alone.”

“Well enough? I can't see Gamlen trying to protect you if you decided to stay with Mother. We left 'well enough' behind when the Blight came. Father needed that fortune, much more than we what we needed to buy a share, to get away before I was born. He would have been transferred to any other Circle where he _couldn't_ get out to see Mother. You would not have been born. Undoing necessity is pointless to worry about, we are still Hawkes.” If I refused to disavow what Papa decided when forced, maybe I should for myself. But it was hard.

My sister's smile was cautious. “Things may be a little better, now.”

I had to smile. “One part of this was good. It was getting harder and harder every year to remember what Father sounded like.”

“I thought he knew everything.” Beth chuckled. “You know, as much as he had to spend time training me, he was so proud of you and Carver. His scoundrel and his soldier.”

That used to get a rise out of me, when I'd done something I wasn't proud of, but Carver gloried in that.

Bethany's voice dropped. “What he'd think now, I don't know.”

“Don't be silly, Bethy. If you got tainted, he'd force Cousland if he had to so you could live. That I have no doubt about.”

“I could just see him now, glaring at Stroud and the cup, just _willing_ it to work.” Her smile was relieved.

That I could see, too. He would have been proud of Bethany mastering force magic. They both would. “I'd have loved to talk to Mother about this. About Father.”

“I still can't believe she's gone. I wish...” Bethany's face fell again and she looked away. “Well, perhaps it doesn't matter.”

I felt the familiar choking from the Foundry when Mother died. “I wish you could have said goodbye, but _no one_ should have to see what was done by that madman.”

She looked doubtful. “Have you seen broodmothers yet?”

Shaking my head, I knew this answer in my bones. “That isn't the same, it's more like seeing someone you love die from Blight sickness. Broodmothers lose their sanity, and there's nothing left. Mother knew what happened to her and was trapped inside blood magic, and I had to watch her die.”

Bethany embraced me suddenly. “Andraste bless you. Thank you for taking care of everything, Sister.”

I hugged her back, able to breathe again.

When I heard footsteps, I looked up and saw Anders hurrying after Fenris. Fenris was smug and Anders worried.

Returning to the campfire, we made sketches of the layout for the guards Aveline left behind. The seal gone should make this possible. We might find some salvage, but I hoped the mine had a foundry. Whatever was part of the seals or Magisters' project would be worthless scrap. We had at least one bronto to help if we got back soon enough and planning went well after sunset. Tad and Leon had mining experience before they became guards, so that would help.

Now I needed to sleep.

I rushed into the study, wanting to grab a bottle of red from the vintner Fenris and Aveline told me about. I wanted to choke Orsino again for working against the interests of the mages under his care. It would be a half bottle rant, unless Anders got mad too.

“Orsino again, little dove?” Papa was lounging on the couch with Mother, his face healthy and full. Lying with his head in her lap, he had an old tome lying on his chest while she put some needlework aside.

I stripped off my Champion gauntlets and threw them at the desk. “Honestly, Papa, they compete to see who can endanger more people. You'd think they were abominations, but they don't even have that much sense.”

“Like that healer you've been sneaking out to visit, Aldera?” Mother asked with an arch smile. “Is he interested in settling down, or is he going to be reassigned to Ferelden?”

I felt my face warm and I turned to grab the bottle from the desk. “It's complicated... because of Justice.”

Papa looked thoughtful. “That young Anders lives his life astride the Veil with broken netting, a little like that dreaming creature from the prison. Malice is the worst demon.”

Upstairs, I heard Bethany moving in her room, though I saw Carver run by the doorway, shouting for Sandal.

Papa glanced up, too. “I'm glad you two aren't at each other's throats. Not all the time like you and Carver. I did it so all of you would have a life free to choose.”

I hadn't felt so free.

Mother smiled sadly, her face unwrinkled and younger. “It must have been a terrible burden in that place. Much like the burden you've assumed, Aldera.”

“I do what I can. Sometimes it doesn't seem enough anymore.”

Mother reached to hold Papa's hand. “You know, your father tried to help people the same way. Tried to fix troubles he saw in others.”

There were so _many_ troubles...

“The best of him is still with you, Aldera. The best of all of us.” Mother sounded sure. “It's what makes you try so hard.”

“You will always have that, my dove.” Papa sat up and smiled. “We will always be family, and we're proud of you. It will be all right.”

I woke up, my face wet with tears as Anders looked at me with worry, his staff glowing a little.

“Love?” He sounded afraid.

I hugged him and buried my face in the few feathers his Warden armor offered. “I don't think I dreamed of Papa since before the Blight. Mother and Carver were there too.”

Anders relaxed and rolled a little, bringing me with him. “That sounds like a nice dream. I rarely have dreams, even with Vengeance gone. Tell me about it...”

I started but fell asleep, maybe with Anders' help, and slept until morning.

We rose too early and split to our tasks into two groups; these would be exhausting days. Hiring someone to do this would be better, but I didn't want to leave this undone.

A few days later, the dragon and Carta were finally cremated, barring some hide that Anders swore he knew could sell. Varric left, claiming some guild business, leaving with the guards. That left us still fighting off exhaustion, though it had taken a few days for me to notice that Fenris was feeling it more than we were.

That night I put my chilly fingers against Anders' skin, hidden from view by his blue and grays.

The breath he took was a silent admission that it was still cool in late spring. “Love... you _could_ have warned me you were cold.”

Tracing rougher areas of his scar tissue as my hands warmed, I asked. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, never, Hawke.” Anders started to roll around to gather our things. “We are _not stopping_. We are _making a new camp_ tomorrow. Where we'll _have beds_ and bunks and _dry rooms_ and doors. We are _not_ stopping.”

Pulling me to my feet, he nearly carried me away to make a new camp, not that I felt cold for long, even without the Warden armor.

Anders didn't complain about the cold again.

Finally I fell asleep, breathing in Anders' scent as he soothed my hair.

This was always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who finished Aldera Hawke and Anders' Legacy story. But there is more, as the third book in the trilogy was written for a past NaNoWriMo, and will be posted in a few days.
> 
> A Match to Tinder III begins shortly after this pause. Finished with the Deep Roads, Hawke and Anders plan to finally visit Lothering. But other forces are gaining momentum during chaos of mage-Templar war, the war that isn't as quick as some expected.


End file.
